


A Show of Faith

by ChelleyPam



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie wouldn't wake up after the head injury she sustained sneaking into Phillly.  Miles has to cut a deal with the devil to get her the help she needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Put down the swords, pitchforks and guns! This damn plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone and kept derailing me, so I'm giving you something else to yell at me over.

“Open your eyes, Charlie. I need you to open your eyes.”

It wasn't working. Charlie's eyes were moving fitfully behind the lids, but she wasn't coming to. Fear gripped Miles' heart in a cold, icy fist. He was losing her. He couldn't lose her. Not after all this time. 

Miles swallowed. He knew what he had to do. “Nora.” She knelt down beside him, her expression worried and eager to help. “You gotta leave.”

She blinked. “What? No. Miles, we're not leaving you here.”

“You have to. You need to take Aaron and get out of Philly, however you can.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Miles...”

“You gotta leave. Leave and don't look back. Don't stop for anything. Just run and keep on moving.”

Aaron was shaking his head. “No. We didn't come all this way to turn back now!”

“YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!” He drew in a breath. “She needs a doctor. A good one. And Monroe's personal physician is the best there is in this town.”

The color drained from Nora's cheeks. “Miles, you can't.”

“I have to. I can't lose her, Nora.”

“You can't know that Monroe will even allow it.”

“I'll make him allow it!” Miles told himself not to cry. Bass was the one who always cried too easily, always wore his emotions close to the skin. He was always the cold one.

But this was Charlie.

“I'll make him allow it. It's me he wants. It's me he's been hunting for all this time. The two of you, you're just bait he'd use to trap me and then kill once he's gotten what he wants. So I need the two of you out of here.”

“What about Charlie?” Aaron's face took on that expression that was a mix of fear and of an inner strength the man didn't even know he had. Miles had seen it, though he had never pointed it out. Pittman was one of those men who were a lot stronger than they knew but whose talents lay with their ingenuity and intelligence rather than with swords and bloodshed. He was a man like Ben. A better man. Far better than he had ever been. “Don't you think Monroe will just use her, too?”

“Only if he saves her. But I can't have you two in the city. Go with Nora. Do what she says. She'll get you out.”

Nora knew him well enough to know that he wasn't going to be shaken from his course. She leaned over and kissed his cheek before reaching over and placing a gentle hand on Charlie's. “Take care of her.”

“That's what I'm trying to do.

“No, this is insane! Monroe's not about to help Charlie.”

“Aaron, Miles is right. We have to go. We can't be anywhere near him when this goes down. Come with me.”

“Nora, we ca...”

“Aaron, get out of here!” Miles glared at him, finally getting his point across. He must look murderous. He watched the man give the unconscious young woman at his side one last, worried look before letting Nora drag him away. 

Miles waited until the door exiting the subway tunnels closed, and then waited another thirty seconds to give them a good head start. Then, forcing himself to be careful when what he really wanted to do was sweep her up without thought, he lifted Charlie and headed up the steps, cradling her limp form to his chest.

He made his way through the streets of Philly, sticking to shadows and alleys until he got to Liberty Hall. He didn't want to be stopped before he got there. The guards at the front door looked young. Far too young to know him. They leveled their rifles at him and commanded him to halt. 

“I'm Miles Matheson.” His struggled to keep his voice calm and steady. “Monroe is looking for. Tell him I'm here.”

Of course they knew the name. All the Militia knew his name. They moved as though to try and restrain him, but how did you restrain a man carrying an unconscious young woman? They settled for walking him into Liberty Hall at gunpoint while someone ran for Monroe.

Bass came down more quickly than he had expected. Usually he would make certain to get into full uniform, even if he was roused in the middle of the night like this. Apparently being told that he had arrived through the front door was important enough to merit just pants and a shirt. 

His friend and brother since childhood slowed, his expression one of disbelief as he took in the sight. “Miles?”

“I need your help, Bass. I need your doctor.”

Bass' eyes moved down to the young woman in Miles' arms. She was quiet and unmoving. “That's Charlotte.”

“Yeah, it's Charlie. She's not waking up. I need your doctor.” Bass looked him, expression wary. “I'll do anything you want of me, Bass. Strip me naked and have me whipped in the square, go for it. I'll even blow my own damn brains out if you want me to, just... I'm begging you.”

Bass looked to one of the guards. “Get him.” The man ran off. “Let's get her somewhere more comfortable.” He motioned for Miles to precede him up the staircase. “I believe the third room to the left on the second floor should be unoccupied.”

It was. Miles placed Charlie onto the bed, still searching her face for some sign that she was coming around. She remained quiet and peaceful. “Come on, Charlie, please. Just one look. Open your eyes just once.”

“What happened?”

Miles swallowed. “We came through the old subway tunnels. Charlie stepped on one of the mines. We got her off of it, but when the mines blew they cut off the air supply. We were suffocating. Hallucinating. When we finally reached far enough there was air, found the exit, turns out one of the rebels with us was actually one of yours. He killed the others, Charlie got him but he managed to get off a round. It just grazed her, but she cracked her head on the stairs when she went down.”

“Were you coming to kill me, Miles?”

“I told the rebels I'd lead them to you, but in truth I was hoping to avoid you all together. We came to get Danny back.” He raised one of Charlie's hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against her palm. “Damn girl walked across the whole fucking republic to get her brother back. It can't end like this, not for her.”

Bass was silent. It didn't take much longer for Dr. Granger to arrive. Miles relayed the events to him as he examined her. The man was thorough and professional, but quick. “There is some slight give in the skull here where she hit the stairs, likely a spiderweb fracture pattern, but it is trying to bow outward. Better than applying pressure inwards. I suspect that the oxygen deprivation is compounding the problem. I see no obvious signs of inter-cranial pressure, but to be certain I'll want to stay here to observe. If she starts to show them I may need to make a bore hole to relieve the pressure. But that's a step I don't want to take unless absolutely necessary.”

Miles looked at the man, trying to process what he was saying. “What are the chances she'll wake up?”

“Head injuries are always tricky, and I no longer have the luxury of a CT scan or MRI to peer inside. Still, she's young and healthy, which always bump things up. I would give her north of 50/50.” Granger looked at him closely. “There's not really much you can do from here. You should see to yourself. I'll let you know if there's any change.”

Miles looked about to argue, but suddenly Bass' hand was on his shoulder. “He's right, Miles. You look like hell. Let's get you a drink. Let the doctor do his work.”

He had promised Bass he'd do what he asked. Miles let himself be led from the room and followed him to his office. As promised, Bass poured them both a drink. “Here. You look like you could use it.” Miles accepted the glass, his thoughts still upstairs with the doctor and with Charlie. “Miles, you know he's the best in the Republic. If anyone can help her, it's him.”

“I know.” Miles looked at the glass in his hand and set it down. He felt as though he'd be sick if he drank. “Thank you, Bass.” What more could he say?

“I'm glad I could be of help.” Bass sat down in his chair behind the desk, watching him. “Tell me, how was it? Finally having her to yourself after all this time?” Miles blinked at him, but said nothing. Bass tilted his head inquisitively. “Must be hard to put into words.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“You know, I couldn't believe what I was hearing, when that soldier knocked on my door to tell me you were down here. I thought I was dreaming. All the time you hid from me, and you just walk in through the front door.”

“Yeah, well, that's me. Full of surprises.”

Bass gave a quiet chuff. “That's for certain.” He toyed with the rim of his glass. “You said you'd do anything I asked if I helped Charlotte.”

Miles gave a nod. “I did. I meant it.” He didn't look at Bass. He kept his thoughts on Charlie, praying to a God he wasn't sure existed anymore that she would wake up. That somehow Bass would find it in his heart to let her keep living after he killed him. That she'd get to have a life, hopefully as happy of one as she could have in this fucked up world.

“Don't worry, Miles. My price isn't that high.”

~***~

Jeremy arrived at Liberty Hall, answering a summons that arrived first thing in the morning. He didn't even have time to finish his damn breakfast. Barely had time to say goodbye to whatever-her-name was he had brought home the night before. He usually prided himself on treating a woman like a gentleman, but apparently the President was in a hurry. 

He heard Bass' voice drifting from the office. “Once Rachel finishes the amplifier we'll be able to get our choppers in the air. First thing we do is wipe out the rebels, then we hit Georgia.”

“Choppers or not, Kelly's men outnumber us two to one on the ground. She won't go down easy.” 

Jeremy's steps slowed. That had been Miles' voice. He was certain of it. With a puzzled frown, he walked into the President's office. There, standing at the map table with Monroe, wearing an all black uniform like his, was Miles Matheson, standing as though he'd never left the Militia in the first place. 

“Jeremy, come in.”

“Still trying to determine if I'm awake, Sir.”

Bass smiled. “It does take some getting used to, doesn't it?” He clapped Miles on the shoulder, his smile growing wider. “General Matheson has seen fit to resume his position as Commanding General of the Militia. He's come home.”

Maybe he was dreaming. After all this time? After Jeremy himself had seen Miles with the rebels? Now the man was supposed to be one of theirs again? “Well, it's about time.” He smiled, extending his hand to Miles. “Welcome home, General.”

Miles accepted the hand and gripped it firmly. “Thank you. Sorry about taking you prisoner.”

“Nah,” Jeremy said with a wave, “don't mention it. You're back. That's the important thing.”

There was a knock on the door. Since it was open, the person who knocked was already inside. It was a young solider in a medic's uniform. “Gentlemen, Dr. Granger sent me to tell you that she's waking up.”

Jeremy saw Miles give a false start, something almost desperate flitting across his face before he concealed it again. Bass murmured, “It's about time,” before nodding to the medic. “What are you waiting for, Brother?”

Miles left the room. Jeremy watched him go before turning back to the president. Monroe gave a ghost of a smile and moved to follow. He followed, curious, as they went upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Through the open door a young woman's voice drifted out. “Miles? Where are we? What are you wearing?”

“It's not important. What's important that you're awake, and that you get better.”

Jeremy and Bass cleared the door. Bass stood there a moment, watching. Jeremy saw the girl who'd been with Miles at the rebel base reclining against what looked to be every pillow from every room on the floor on the wide bed. Monroe's personal physician was assessing what appeared to be head injury while Miles was seated next to her, holding her hand. 

Monroe's voice was warm and soft when he spoke. “Hello, Charlotte. It's nice to finally meet you.” He stepped into the room, Jeremy lingering in the doorway. “I'm Sebastian Monroe.”

The girl's, Charlotte's, face lost what little color it had regained from her injury. “Miles, what's going on?” She pulled her eyes from Monroe and looked at the man holding her hand. “What's happening.”

“You wouldn't wake up. I had... I had to get you to a doctor.” Miles looked back over his shoulder at them for only a moment before turning back to her. “And Bass has the best one available.”

“Miles, what have you done?”

“I did what I had to do to keep you safe.”

“Miles...”

“Miles has stepped back into his previous position with the Republic as Commanding General.” Jeremy saw her eyes widen and an almost visceral pain in them. 

But now Miles being back made sense. If this was Charlotte, then she was Miles' family. She'd been injured, severely enough that he had risked coming here to get help. Of course, that didn't mean his heart was in the job. And why her? Miles had handled part of Rachel's interrogation himself. What made him give a damn about her daughter?

“Miles, what's he talking about?” She pulled her hand from his, moving as though trying to get up. Granger put moved his hands to her shoulders, apply firm but gentle pressure.

“Miss Matheson, you're still dealing with a head injury. You need to remain calm.”

“Get your hands off me!”

“Calm down, Charlotte. I would rather not sedate you when you've just now woken up.”

“Let go of me!” 

“Miss Matheson, I need you to calm down.” Granger's voice was more firm, but the girl still wasn't settling down. 

“Charlie, please, you need to listen to the doctor.”

“Miles, tell me he's lying.” Her voice was almost a pleading. “Tell me you didn't do this.”

“Gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I can't have her agitated like this.”

“Bass,” Miles said over his shoulder, “I need the room.”

Monroe gave a nod. “Doctor, perhaps we should give them some privacy.” Granger did not look comfortable with the idea. “I'm sure she will be less agitated if it's just her and General Matheson.”

The doctor gave a short nod, then he and his assistant exited the room with Bass and Jeremy, closing the door behind them.

~***~

“Miles, tell me he was lying.”

Miles swallowed. He knew she wasn't going to take this well. “I can't, Charlie. He isn't lying.”

She looked at him, her expression hurt. “You came back to him, just like that? Where are Nora and Aaron? Did you give them to him, too?”

“I didn't give you to him. I gave him me. And I didn't give him Nora or Aaron, I told them to get the hell out of the city before I came here.” He licked his lips. “Charlie, you weren't waking up. You got shot, you cracked your skull, and you weren't responding. You were lying there, still alive but... not there. I didn't have a choice. You needed a doctor and Bass' personal physician is the best in the city. Probably the best in the whole republic. I carried you here and told him I'd give him anything if he would just help you.”

She blinked, her chin trembling. “And... this is what he wanted. He wanted you back in uniform? Why would you come back to him? You hate what you did when you were with him before, I know you do. Why would you let him pull you back in like this?”

“Because I couldn't lose you. Not again.”

She looked confused, but she deserved to know everything. “I've done a lot of terrible, dickish things in my life, Charlie. A lot of stuff I'm not proud of. Especially since the Blackout. But the thing I probably felt the most ashamed of is what I did to Ben before the lights went out.”

“What did you do?” Her voice sounded small, almost fearful.

“I... had an affair with my brother's wife. Lasted about three years. Eventually I just couldn't keep doing that to him, so I told your mother we couldn't keep it up. I told her that she should go home to Ben and start a family.” He swallowed again. This felt like ripping open an old wound. 

“You were born... not even eight months later, and it was a toss up as to which of us was your father. I didn't ask. I was afraid to know. Didn't know what I'd do, or how I would feel. But then Danny was born and he was so sick. Everything being done was pretty much experimental and all the medical information they could gather on the family was pulled together just in case. Ben must have suspected, because he took that opportunity to have a paternity test run. It came back that you were a relative, but that you weren't his.

“He confronted us. We confessed, assured him that we weren't still together and hadn't been for more than two years. When your mother left to go to return to the hospital to be with Danny, Ben told me that if I ever tried to claim you or take you away from him...”

He paused. That day came back to him in awful clarity. The yelling. The rage. The pain. Two brothers tearing into one another with words, and at that he had been at the disadvantage. Ben was always better at words, and he couldn't bring himself to physically attack his older brother. “The law hadn't caught up with science. Legally, the father listed on the birth certificate was the father of the child, and your birth certificate said your father was Ben. And... that gave him a powerful weapon. He said that if I ever tried to claim you, he would divorce Rachel on the grounds of our affair, of which you were living proof, and use that same evidence to fight like hell to get custody of you and Danny. But, if I didn't try to change the dynamics, if I didn't try to push it from uncle and niece to father and daughter, I could see you whenever I was home. I could take you outings, spend time with you, have some impact on your life.

“You were better off in a stable home with Ben and Rachel and you would have been in a broken home with any one of the three of us. So... I swallowed my pride and I took the deal. I accepted what time with you I could have, and kept telling myself it was for the best because Ben was the better man. He was a better man with me, and even though he knew you weren't his daughter by blood, he loved you as though you were. He didn't threaten me with that because he was angry about the affair, he did it because he already loved you and he didn't want to lose you. I knew he'd take care of you.”

He could feel her trembling under the covers of the bed. “You and Mom... you did that to Da... to him...”

“He's your dad. He may not have been your father, but he was your dad. I understand that. I can respect it. And, yes, we did. Like I said, he was the better man. I have always been a selfish dick, and I know that about myself. But coming here, with you, everything we went through... I finally had you, Charlie. I had you with me, after all this time. I couldn't lose you, not a second time. I couldn't go through that again. It hurt like hell every time I had to say good-bye and go back to base without you. Like someone was ripping a knife through my guts. I couldn't let you die. So, yeah, I put the uniform back on and I'll lead Bass' army and I will be General Matheson again. I'd get into bed with the devil himself if it meant you'd be safe.”

She was quiet, her breathing a bit ragged sounding. Doubtless she was trying to wrap her head around everything he'd just told her. “Charlie, say something. Give me some kind of response.”

“I...” She took another breath and let it out. “My head hurts.”

He closed his eyes, telling himself that it wouldn't do for him to be seen crying. Not now, not while he was dressed like this. Miles Matheson was ruthless, committed and cold. He didn't tear up, even if his eyes were doing just that. “I'd be surprised if it didn't. The doctor's right. You need to keep calm, don't get overworked.”

He took hold of her hand again and lifted it, pressing it against his lips. He doubted she would have sat still for him to kiss her cheek. It would be too soon for that just yet. “I love you, Charlie. Don't ever doubt that, no matter what.”

He got up and opened the door. The doctor was waiting patiently outside. “She's uncomfortable. Headache.”

“That's hardly surprising.” Granger gave her a warm smile, but he was still addressing Miles. “Still, that she's come to this soon is good. I tested her recall and cognitive functions before sending for you and she has her short and long term memory in tact. She was complaining of some visual distortions and nausea, but that is to be expected. I've assigned or a rotation of nurses to keep watch over her twenty-four hours for now, just in case she takes a turn for the worse, but it's purely for precaution. I have every confidence that she will make a full recovery.” He paused, then turned his face to Miles. “Provide, of course, that she does not become overwrought.”

In other words, he and Bass should keep their interactions with her to a minimum, or at least he should try to keep Bass from upsetting her. He was going to be upsetting enough. “Message received, Doc.” 

Granger nodded. “Good to have you back, General. Don't worry, she's a fighter. Must run in the family.”

~***~

Danny's jaw hurt. The man escorting him from his holding cell back to Liberty Hall had pulled out his back molars and had done it with a smile. He reminded him of a kid back home, a bully who liked beating up on the younger kids and tormenting small animals. He'd been bigger and older than Charlie, but she had knocked out some of his teeth. Sure, he'd broken her arm in three places, but she'd still pounded him good. And her arm had healed up fine. 

Charlie. They said they were taking him to see his sister. Uncle Miles had told them to after he'd shown up. Dad had only ever said that Miles was good at killing, and Danny guessed that he must be. He looked like he'd be good at killing in his black uniform, tall and imposing. The other soldiers seemed both awestruck and afraid in his presence. The molar-yanking dick in front of him didn't seem quite as cowed, though. 

Maybe they should put Charlie in a black uniform. See if she was scarier that way. Or just let her at the guy. Charlie always had more than her fair share of guts, and she didn't know when to back down from a fight. Even if it got her arm broken.

Mom had been furious with Uncle Miles when he said that Charlie was here. She'd flew at him with a candlestick, demanding to know what he'd done to her. Miles had just caught hold of his mother and disarmed her, holding her close enough that she couldn't hit out at him again until she'd calmed down. He told her that Charlie had been injured when they had been sneaking into the city to rescue him.

The conversation after that was still replaying in his mind.

They reached a room on the second floor and Sergeant Pain opened the door. “Miss Matheson has a visitor.”

The guards flanking him escorted him into the room. Charlie was seated in a wide bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. Danny forgot the armed guards and Sergeant Psycho, hurrying to her side and hugging her fiercely. There was a man in a militia uniform in the room with her who warned him to be careful. There was a patch on his sleeve that denoted him as a medic. 

“Uncle Miles said you were shot.”

“Just a graze. Cracking my head on the stairs, that was a bigger problem.” She pulled back and looked at him, her hand moving to cup his cheek.

“You came.”

“Of course I did. You're my brother. It's my job to look out for you.” That was Charlie Speak for 'I love you', and it made him smile. 

“This is very touching.” Danny had almost forgotten about Sergeant Dick. He flexed his shoulders as Charlie looked behind him curiously.

“Could we have some privacy, please?” Danny knew that tone of voice. It was the tone she used with Dad and Maggie when they were telling her why she shouldn't do something but she was going to do it anyway. She wasn't asking the soldiers to leave; she was telling them to get the hell out. 

“I don't think that would be wise.”

The medic cleared his throat. “Actually, Sergeant, Major Granger has been very specific that Miss Matheson is to avoid being agitated or upset. A room full of armed soldiers is hardly going to allow her to remain calm. We are on the second floor and there's only one door in or out of this room. There should be no harm in letting her and her brother have some time alone.” The medic gave Danny and Charlie a smile. “I understand it's been a long trip for her to get here.”

Sergeant Jackass gave a narrowed eyed glare at the Medic, but he capitulated. He and the guards left. The medic then turned to them. “Thirty minutes. No more than that. You still aren't resting well enough.”

Charlie nodded. “Thank you.” He just smiled again before closing the door behind them.

“I hate that guy.”

“He does have a major creep factor going for him.”

“You have no idea. I've been fantasizing about watching you punch his teeth down his throat for days now.”

Charlie gave a short laugh. “Maybe when I walk further than the chamberpot without feeling like I'm going to throw up everything I've eaten over the past year.”

Danny wrapped his arms around his sister and hugged her tight. “Mom is here.”

Charlie stiffened a little. “What?”

Danny let her go, sitting beside her on the bed. “Mom is here. She's alive. Monroe's been keeping her prisoner all this time. I think Uncle Miles knew he had her, but didn't know she was still alive. He said he saw a body, that he never would have left if he'd known she was still alive.”

“That would have been nice to know. Looks like there were all sorts of things no one was telling me. Telling either of us, really. All the people we trusted growing up have been lying to us, Danny.”

“Yeah, I've been noticing that myself.”

Charlie looked up at him. “What have you learned?”

“Mom knows something about why the lights went out.”

“So did Dad. He had this pendant that could turn them back on for a while. Now Monroe has it.”

Danny gave a contemplative nod. “That must be what that talk about the amplifier was about.” She looked at him questioningly. “Monroe wants Mom to build him an amplifier. Miles told her she should do it.”

“Amplifier. That's a pre-Blackout word.” Charlie ran through her lessons with Aaron. “To amplify is to make something greater or larger. He wants her to make the pendant stronger.” She shook her head. “Why would Miles want her to do that? He knows if Monroe gets the ability to fire up even one of those helicopters he's been collecting, no one else will stand a chance against him.”

“He said she needed to do it for us. Monroe didn't tell him about her until after he made whatever deal he did. Said that the deal for him to be back in charge of the Militia only covered you and me, kept us safe, but if she didn't finish the amplifier Monroe would either kill her or lock her away and never let us see one another again. The way he put it, he would be out in the field for weeks or months at a time and you and me would be 'stuck here with Monroe and his officers and his men and all their lies and manipulations and poison'. He told her that one of them needed to be here to offset that and that it couldn't be him.”

Charlie smirked at him. “You've been doing your sit quiet and blend in thing again.”

“I've had a lot of practice. Pretty sure even Uncle Miles forgot I was in the room.”

“She can't do it, Danny.”

“She already told Miles she would.”

“Well... talk her out of it. She can't give Monroe power.”

“Yeah, he's a dick.” Danny crawled up onto the other side of the bed, resting back on all the pillows and laying there with Charlie like they sometimes did back home when one or the other of them just needed someone they could trust to talk to. “Charlie, did our parents break the world?”

“I don't know, Danny. I suspect that at least had something to do with it, but I don't know if they did all of it. How could we know? Apparently none of them have been completely honest with us. Ever.”

Danny mulled that over for a bit. “Charlie? Uncle Miles told Mom that he had to tell you the truth. That you deserved to know why he agreed to come back to the Militia when you were hurt. What did he tell you?” 

He saw his sister wince. “Yeah... about that.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Look right at me, don't move your eyes.” Charlie did as she was instructed. “Good. Pupils are reacting normally.” She'd seen Maggie do this back home when someone hit their head, moving a candle from one eye to the other to see if the pupils retracted as they were supposed to. 

The doctor put the candle down and held out his hands. “Squeeze my hands.” She did so. “Strength is returning. I'm told you slept trough the night.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And no trouble keeping anything down over the past couple of days.”

“Nope, everything stayed where it was supposed to. Appetite is coming back, too.”

“Vision?”

“No more blurriness, but light still hurts when I have a headache.”

“Do those seem to be quieting down?”

“They seem to be less frequent.”

Granger nodded. “Excellent progress. I think we've come to the point where you can start venturing out of this room for a bit. I'll have them bring up a hot bath and some fresh clothes. See if you can't eat at a table for lunch like a real person for a change.”

She smiled. “That'd be nice. It's a nice room, but it gets a little boring.”

“I imagine so. And young people like to be active. You've been a remarkably patient young woman through all of this.”

“Well, it helps that they moved Danny next door.”

He smiled. “Yes, I suppose that would help. You are a very brave young woman, journeying all this way to find him. I'm not at all surprised you've recovered so well. Something tells me you've got a bit of a stubborn streak.”

She grinned, happy that she might finally be getting out of this room. She'd been in here, what, four days now?

Not that she had been without company. She still hadn't seen Mom, but Unc... Miles tried to come by at least twice a day. He joined her for breakfast, filling her in on what Mom had told him about her time here. He wasn't holding back from her any longer. He had admitted that he had invited her Da.. Ben to join him when he'd found them all those years ago, and Mom had left to go join him instead, giving Ben time to get her and Danny out of the area and into hiding. He admitted that Mom had been interrogated, even tortured for information, though apparently with more frequency after he had thought she was dead and had deserted than when he was around. 

She noticed the tension in his shoulders and hands when he spoke of it. He was angry at the idea. Furious that his 'friend' had done those things to her. 

And, yes, he admitted that he had told Rachel she needed to give Monroe the amplifier, if for no other reason than it would earn her the right to see her kids again. 

“How did you know about that?”

“Danny. He heard the whole conversation. He was right in the room with you.”

Miles had thought that over, then gave a respectful nod. “Completely forgot he was there.”

“Yeah, he does that. He hears a lot more than people think he does.”

“Ah. Let's not tell Bass and the others about that. It could come in handy, and if they learned of it, they might try to recruit him into a job in Intelligence. I doubt he'd appreciate being in the Militia.”

Things were... awkward, to say the least. “So... what do I call you now? Do you want me to call you 'Dad'?”

Miles thought about this, then shook his head. “Miles. Anything else coming from you would just sound weird at this point. Besides, Ben was your dad, we already covered that. I wouldn't want to take anything away from what the two of you had.”

“Right.” She had considered things a bit more. “Guess this goes a long way to explaining why he and I were always butting heads like we were. I must have too much of you in me.”

“Or too much of your mother. You're stubborn, just like her.” He had smiled a bit at that. “Danny has been trying to convince her not to build the amplifier. That your idea?”

“You told me yourself, if Monroe gets power he's going to roll right over all the other republics. You know that can't happen.”

“She's got to finish that amplifier, Charlie. I'll be going out into the field with the men. I'll be gone and you and Danny will be here with no one but Bass and those loyal to him.”

“You think he'd hurt us.”

“Not in the way you're thinking. But he can be... very charismatic. Manipulative. He can twist your thoughts and ideas around to what he wants you to think and believe. Rachel finishes the amplifier and he's agreed to move her back into Liberty Hall, give her unrestricted access to you and Danny. She can be here to act as a shield between you and them, and I need her to do that. For your sake, and for mine.”

Charlie had studied him closely. “Is that how he pulled you in?”

“No, as much as I hate to think back on it, I started all this. We were walking to Chicago, me and Bass, trying to get to you and your family. I saw... horrible things. People were turning on one another like savages. There were no police. No military. No one to try and keep order. You remember Captain Baker? Jeremy?”

“From the rebel base, the one we took prisoner.”

Miles nodded. “Yeah, he was the first guy we rescued. He was being beaten to death by these two guys, they'd already killed a couple a mile up the road in the direction from which we came, and now they were killing him. I shot them, both of them. Bass was the one trying to talk reason. He was the voice of reason for about the first three years after the blackout. I was the dick.”

“What happened?”

“He had a girl. They were expecting. Something went wrong with the labor and he lost them both. Bass... he has had it hard. Before the Blackout he'd lost his family, his parents and little sisters. A car wreck caused by a drunk driver. I found him at their grave site with a bottle of whiskey and a loaded hand gun. Pretty sure he would have killed himself if I hadn't gotten to him. I held him together the best I could, and he seemed to recover. But... losing Shelly and the baby broke something in him. After that, he got colder. Ruthless. He stopped being the voice of reason and started becoming more like me, and that wasn't good for anyone.”

“What was he like before that?”

Miles considered that a moment. “Charming. Likeable. Everyone who met him liked him. He offset my grumpiness when we were deployed, kept me out of a lot of needless fights just because of my attitude. And could charm the panties off of a girl with a smile from fifty feet away. Surprised the hell out of me when he settled down with Shelly. I didn't think he had it in him to settle on just one girl. He loved women too much.”

“Maybe she was the right one.”

“Maybe she was, and the best of him died with her, I'm afraid.”

Charlie pushed her hash browns around her plate. “Miles... you shouldn't have made that deal. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

She saw his hand tighten on his silverware. “You're the only one I'd make that deal for, Charlie. I won't apologize for it.” He loosened his grip. “I found you, the family. I found you after the Blackout, and after Bass and I had started building the Republic. Showed up on your family's front door step in the middle of the night and invited Ben to join me. Your mother showed up instead, giving Ben time to get you and Danny out of there. I went back to look for you but you were all gone. I spent weeks berating myself for not going with my first instinct.”

“What was that?”

“To walk right past them, go up the stairs, find whatever bed they had you sleeping in and just take you. They couldn't have stopped me. Probably would have been more likely to follow, and even if they didn't, I would have had you.” He set the fork down and took a drink of his whiskey. “I was still trying to honor Ben's request at that time, trying to play nice even though a large part of me pointed out that while he was the best provider in a world with power, in a world without it you would likely be better off with someone who could protect you physically.”

“You regretted just not... kidnapping me?”

“It's not kidnapping if I'm your father. And if I'd acted on that desire, maybe Ben would still be alive, here in Philadelphia with Rachel and Danny. We would have all been together.”

“And Monroe would have power and would have already crushed the other republics.”

Miles nodded in acquiescence to that. “Not entirely certain how that would have turned out.”

She gaped at him. “I'm sorry, have you been living in the same Monroe Republic as I have?”

“Yeah, but you also have to understand that resources aren't as plentiful here. Georgia, on the other hand, has a longer growing season, more arable land thriving fruit orchards and a growing textile trade. Foster has trade agreements in place with England and other European countries as well as with the Caribbean where the sugar plantations have reformed. They produce enough food that, if we were to secure them, we could lower the taxes on the people here and spread the wealth around. Lower taxes on our current land means that people will have more to eat. And Europe isn't going to cut of its nose to spite it's face. They'll bitch and moan, but they'll agree to the same trade agreements.”

“Okay, let's say that you can conquer Georgia and bring the populace into line; then what?”

“Plains Nation next. They'd be easier, as fragmented as they are, but we'd need to get them under control before going on to California. Once we have California, then we can decide if we want Texas.”

She blinked. “If you want Texas? Doesn't Monroe pretty much want the entire thing?”

Miles gave a so-so gesture with his hand. “Texas is... Texas. They've been their own country more than once. When they became a state it was with the caveat that they could change their minds later. They just have a different way of thinking. It may be that a trade alliance with Texas would be better for the Republic, not to mention that would leave keeping the Texas/Mexico border in line their problem; not ours.”

Charlie rubbed her head. “All this makes me head pound.”

“Pretty sure the crack to the noggin is making your head pound.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Your mother is almost done with the amplifier. I know you don't approve, but this is for the best.”

“Because you need her to be a buffer between us and Monroe.”

“That's no small thing, Charlie. I need you looked after.”

“Yeah, because I'm a delicate little princess.”

“It's no laughing matter, Charlie.” Miles reached over and gently took her chin into his fingers, making her look at him. “You don't know Bass. There's a reason he was put in charge of the Republic instead of me. I can kill. I can train men to kill. I can teach them to be vicious, a brutal and smart, but at the end of the day I'm just a weapon. A general. Bass... he's got a way of making a man forget everything he thought was right or wrong and toss it out the window. They follow him blindly and don't question what he asks them to do.” He shook his head. “And he has been practicing that with women since we were kids in high school. I have seen him convince a girl who was sworn to go into a convent give it up without a second's thought. I... I used to be engaged. A girl named Emma. We were all three friends. Bass doesn't know that I know this, but he slept with her. One night before we shipped out to Basic, while I was passed out drunk in the other room.”

Charlie blinked. “He screwed your fiance? And you're still friends with him?”

“Have been since grade school. The kind of friend that transcends high school girlfriends and one night stands.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“He went too far. I tried to hold him back as much as I could, keep him stable, but in the end I wasn't able to hold him together. I tried to kill him, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill my brother.”

Charlie looked at him. “How do I know that what the two of you have won't transcend me?”

He met her gaze head on. “You're the one thing that it never could. You're the one thing that I'd be able to pull that trigger for. I need Bass and his men to keep you safe. I need your mother to keep him from screwing with your head. From turning you into someone you won't like yourself being.”

Charlie looked down at her plate. “I'm worried about Danny.”

“Something tells me that you've always been worried about Danny. I blame your mother for that. I read Neville's reports. Did you know he escaped them twice?” He met her eyes when she looked up. “He also was having trouble with one of the soldiers over the man he killed in the shootout that killed your father. Danny faked an asthma attack, wrapped the chains holding him around his throat and told him if he ever touched him again he'd kill him. Not saying the kid doesn't have health problems, but he's a lot stronger than your mother ever gave him credit for. He's a grown man now, Charlie, and a good one.” Miles smiled. “That little vanishing-in-plain-sight trick of his is proof enough of that. Just remember, we're keeping him away from Neville. Bass has put the man in charge of Intelligence and he actually likes Danny. I've no desire to see my nephew in uniform.”

“That makes two of us.”

The door opened and Danny came in. He paused when he saw Miles, looking very much like a deer caught in pre-Blackout headlights. “Speak of the Devil.”

Charlie frowned. “I'm the only one who gets to call him that.”

“She really is. Last person who tried she broke his nose.”

Miles smirked. “You're going to have to fight your own battles around here, Danny. The Militia is like piranha; they can smell weakness.” He put aside his silverware and wiped his mouth clean. “I should be going. Today's the big day after all.”

Brother and sister exchanged nervous looks. Miles reached out to put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Everything is going to be all right. I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you.” He gave them each a squeeze and leaned over to kiss Charlie's hair before leaving. 

“He scares me sometimes.”

“He scares me, and I'm his daughter.”

Danny nodded thanks to the soldier who brought his breakfast and waited for him to leave. “You think we can trust him?”

“I'm not sure we can trust anyone here, but Miles and Mom are probably more trustworthy than most. I mean, they're letting us be in the same room without supervision after all.”

Danny toyed with his eggs. “Have you been alone with the other one? Monroe?”

“He came by to see me one time, brought me some books from his library to keep me from dying of boredom, but he didn't linger Said he just wanted to check up on me.”

“The night Neville brought me in, he told me that I should consider myself his guest. Told me to ask for anything I wanted, including women.”

Charlie blinked. “He seriously offered to get you a hooker?”

“Yep.”

She considered that. “I think I feel cheated.”

Danny snorted and almost choked on his eggs. “Why? I didn't know you went that way.”

“There's got to be male hookers too, right?” She grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. “I mean, why should you have all the fun?”

“In your case I suspect he'd volunteer some of his soldiers.”

“Eww.”

“You started it.”

“Yeah, now I'm ending it. Eat your breakfast. The doctor says I can bet out and about as long as I'm indoors and I want to be anywhere but in this room.”

“Deal, but isn't this all kind of 'his' place?”

“He'll be with Miles.” She paused, considering something, then shaking her head. 

“What?”

“I was wondering what the chances are we could get into his office. After all he's done, we at least deserve the right to screw with his stuff, but that may be pushing it.”

“Probably. We just got each other back. No need to let them know that letting us in the same room unsupervised isn't the brightest move they could make.”

Danny finished his breakfast and the pair of them left the little breakfast room under the careful eye of the very watchful medic assigned for the morning shift. “Is he going to follow us everywhere?”

“Yes, I am. I need to be there in case your sister becomes disoriented or starts showing signs of relapse.”

Charlie looked at Danny. “That answer your question?” She turned back to the medic. “So, what can I do?”

“You can explore the house, as long as you keep it inside and you sit down when you feel yourself getting tired. Nothing too strenuous.”

Charlie looked at her brother. “So nothing fun.”

“Now you know how I've felt all these years.”

“Charlie?”

The siblings turned around, Charlie a little too quickly resulting in her canting to one side. The medic gripped her firmly by the arms. “Steady If you can't take it slow it's back to bed with you.”

“I know, I know, I know.” She waved him off once she was on her feet again. “Danny, this is Not-Nate. Not-Nate, this is my brother, Danny.”

“Not-Nate?”

“He hasn't told me what his real name is, yet.”

The soldier standing a few feet away from them had the grace to look embarrassed. “It's Jason. Jason Neville.”

Danny frowned. “As in the dick who drug me here?”

Jason winced. “My father.” He looked at Charlie. “I heard Miles brought you here, that you'd been shot.”

Charlie pointed to the fading red mark on her right temple. “Grazed.” She pointed to the still bandaged left side of her head. “Big ole smack against some concrete steps. They tell me I'm getting better.” 

Jason seemed to relax a bit. Danny caught it and grinned. “She likes long walks in the woods, fresh picked apples and extra sharp knives.” Next thing was his sister's hand shooting out to knock his head against the wall.

“Miss Matheson!”

“He started it.”

“Do try to recall that you're twenty, not two.”

“Yeah, Charlie, be all grown up and shit.” Danny rubbed his head, grinning at her. Jason couldn't keep from smiling as well.

“Is this what it's like, having a sibling?”

“Yeah, but try to be the older one. That way you get to beat up on the brat.”

“Don't listen to her. She never beat me up. Beat up several bullies who tried to beat me up, but she's never beaten me.”

“She just smacked your head into the wall.”

“That? That was just a love tap. She has a hard time expressing her feelings. I think it's a 'girl thing'.”

“You're about to get a girl thing up your ass.”

“Miss Matheson.” 

Charlie sighed. “Kidding!” She looked at the young man who had tracked her to find Unc.. Miles and sighed. “So, Jason-Not-Nate, you know your way around here? Know if there's anything we can do that won't set off my babysitter here?”

“Well, pretty sure he won't want you in the sparring room. See the stables?”

The medic nixed that idea. “She's not allowed to leave Liberty Hall.”

“See what I mean?”

“It does narrow down the choices considerably.” He pondered. “We could sneak into General Monroe's office,” the medic cleared his throat, “Kidding. How about the library?”

“Really? Your first date with my sister is a library? I think that was old before the Blackout.”

“See, you really didn't miss anything by being an only child.”

“I'm getting that. This way?”

Charlie looked at him contemplatively before turning to the medic. “You know, this guy threw me off a moving train.”

“That is true. I saw him do it.”

“I did that so my father wouldn't shoot you!”

“You could have killed me.”

“I knew you'd be fine.”

The medic cleared his throat again. “Miss Matheson, you're only giving me more reasons to send you back to bed.”

“Fine, fine. Library it is.” Charlie motioned for him to lead the way. Jason walked with them to a massive room that was floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each crammed full. “A lot of books were burned for fuel after the Blackout. Once the Militia was able to establish a stable base here in the city, President Monroe and General Matheson started collecting what volumes could be found in earnest. These are just what they keep here in Liberty Hall. The Academy has a sizable collection as well.”

Danny homed in on a beautifully carved chessboard. “Awesome.”

“Do you two play?”

“I don't, but Danny here would hand you your ass.”

“Oh really. I was top in my class in strategy.”

“Put your skills where your mouth is, Soldier Boy. My brother will have you crying for mercy.”

“You're on.” Jason shrugged out of his uniform jacket and draped it over the back of one of the chairs flanking the board. Danny took the other chair while Charlie claimed one nearby, draping herself sideways to watch the slaughter.

Jason was good, she knew enough about the game to know that, but it was clear he hadn't expected Danny to know what he was doing. Da... Ben... no, Dad had taught him. Charlie had never really cared for the game but Danny had loved it. She was quite happy to watch her brother kick Jason-Not-Nate's ass.

The game drug on, each gaining and losing ground. Eventually Charlie had gotten a book down to read, something about Vampires, whatever those were. They apparently couldn't come out in the day time and drank blood to survive. Photosensitive ticks, maybe?

It took a second for her to register the sound in the distance. It was like a strange, over loud heartbeat. She looked up, her brow creased as she tried to figure out where it was coming from. Once she knew the direction she set down her book and got up from her chair, making her way to the window. She barely noticed Danny, Jason and the medic joining her.

Something large and black was rising from the ground behind the walls of what looked to be some pre-Blackout fortress or factory. Charlie had only seen one motionless, being pulled by a work gang when she and Miles went to rescue Nora. 

“She did it. Mom gave Monroe power.” Her brother's voice was barely a whisper next to her shoulder. 

Mom had done it, in spite of Danny's best efforts to talk her out of it. She had listened to Miles instead. There would be no stopping the Militia now.

~***~

“You're going out there.”

“I have to, Charlie. It's the job.”

She had invited herself into Miles' suite. He hadn't made her leave. Now she was sitting on his oversized bed as she watched him back his gear. “You're just going out there to kill people.”

Miles drew in a breath and let it out slowly, rubbing his eyes. “I don't like this anymore than you, but I made a deal. You're getting better, every day, and that's only because Bass agreed to help you. The price for that is I lead his militia. My militia.”

“So you're going after the Resistance, knowing that Nora is probably with them. Aaron may be with them! He's not a fighter.”

“Maybe not, but the man always manages to come thru when he's needed. Between us, I'm counting on it.” He threaded the buckles of his pack. “If anyone can think the Rebels a way out of this mess, it's him. He may not be a military genius, but he thinks in ways no general currently out there can. That's one hell of an Ace up their sleeves.”

“Careful, you're pretty close to complimenting him.”

“I meant to.” He walked over to her, running his hands over her hair and framing her face. “Bass only had two pendants, so we've only got two amplifiers and there's nothing more he can ask from your mom. You and Danny stick close to her. Stick like glue. And don't get yourself overworked.”

She rolled her eyes. “When are you going to stop treating me like I'm made of glass?”

He arched a brow. “Stand up.” She did so. “Arms out.” She did that, too. “Close your eyes.” She did. She managed to stay upright for a whole four seconds before she began to list. Miles caught her and sat her back onto the bed. “When you stop doing that.”

Charlie snarled at him and looked away. He smirked in return and kissed her forehead. “I love you, so keep the stupid to a minimum so you're still in one piece when I get back. Okay?”

“Right back at you, General Matheson, Sir.” He hugged her, and she hugged him back. She hated that he had to do this because of her, but she knew that he meant it when he said he didn't want to do this. He was letting himself be pulled back into the darkness because of her, and she couldn't help but feel a little guilty about it.

There was a knock on the door. Miles barked for whomever it was to enter. Charlie blinked when she saw who it was. “Jason?”

“Yeah, I asked for Nipples here personally. Don't worry, it's not because I'm sick of him making calf eyes at you every time he thinks no one is looking.” Miles paused, then shrugged. “Well, not just that. He's a damn good scout and knows more than his fair share of intelligence gathering skills. Figure he'll come in useful. And if he gets himself maimed or killed in the process, so much the better.”

Charlie rolled her eyes at him. Miles didn't look the slightest bit abashed. “So, mind your mother, if you know how to mind anyone. Watch after your brother. And try not to do anything that will draw Bass' attention. Think you can do that?”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“That's my girl.” He ran a thumb over her cheek before shouldering his pack and telling Jason to grab the extra one by his desk. Charlie watched her father walk off to make war against people who wouldn't stand a chance against him. 

She lay down on the bed and hugged one of his pillows to her. It smelled of whiskey and Miles, and she tried not to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop is still down. I did this on a program for the iPad so I have no idea how it's going to turn out.
> 
>  
> 
> In other news, I have a crossover fic prompt for those of you who may also be Dresden Files fans. Stop reading this note now if you haven't finished Skin Game yet..... I'd like to see Harry's daughters in a Militia setting. President!Monroe and General!Matheson would so deserve it.

Charlie was glaring at the doctor. She was really starting to hate Granger. "Why can't I go outside?"

"You are perfectly fine to go out into the courtyard or to even take a walk through town provided you are accompanied at all times. You cannot, however, go hunting, horseback riding, practice any type of fighting or do anything else that could be considered potentially dangerous."

She arched a brow. "You do realize that we're in a building with armed guards inside and out? Soldiers are potentially dangerous."

The officer gave her a wry smile. "Only to anyone stupid enough to threaten you, Charlotte."

"And here you probably thought you had seen the last of your days spent arguing with a Matheson." Granger turned around, and Charlie looked up, to see Monroe standing in the doorway. 

"Now it would appear I have an entirely new Matheson to fight with. Feels like Christmas."

Monroe grinned. "She's getting bored, I take it."

"At least I didn't find her trying to sneak out like the General used to. He was nearly impossible to keep in bed, no matter how bad his injuries were." Granger turned his attention back to Charlie. "Miss Matheson, you sustained a fracture to your skull. Even in someone as young and healthy as you, that is going to take close to two months just to fuse back together and as much as a year for the bone to be back to full strength."

"A YEAR?!" Her voice went so high even she flinched. "I have to sit on my ass for a year?" Monroe covered a cough that sounded suspiciously like an aborted laugh.

"Of course not, but I do want you to avoid anything high stress or that could result in another head injury for at least another month, just to be certain that the fracture lines have had time to fuse. After that, we can discuss starting to work you back up to the same level of activity you were used to before your injury."

Charlie made a sound of pure frustration and let herself fall back across the bed she was sitting on. "This is ridiculous."

Monroe did chuckle at that. "Yep, just like her father. Remember the time I had to have Baker and four of his men drag him back here after you'd just put twelve stitches in his side?"

"And he'd decided to go ahead with reviewing the new recruits not even an hour later? Yes, I do. You threatened to step down and make him president if he didn't keep his ass in bed."

"It worked. We'll keep her in line. Thank you, Granger."

"My pleasure, Mr. President." Charlie was still lying on the bed, one arm covering her eyes as she listened to Granger pack up his medical bag and go. Silence followed.

"Hungry?"

Charlie bolted upright. She'd thought Monroe would leave with the doctor, but there he remained, leaning casually against the door frame with his hands in his pockets. "Huh?"

"I asked if you're hungry. It's nearly one and my last meeting ran late. However, I am, shockingly, free for the rest of the afternoon." He gave a shrug with one shoulder. "That hardly ever happens so I was going to treat myself and grab lunch at this place I like. It'd be a shame to go alone."

"I... I think Mom was expecting me to join her and Danny when I got thru with the doctor."

"Yeah, because you really strike me as someone who'd find hanging out with her in her work room fun." She flushed and he smirked. Okay, so listening to her mother go on about science and mechanics bored her to the point of frustration. Danny enjoyed it, but she would much rather be out doing something fun, like hunting or just exploring.

"Come on, Charlotte. You've been stuck in this house for six weeks. I know you're dying to get out. Or, you could stay here and wait for Julia Neville to show up."

"Again?" The too-thin blond with her wide, clearly fake smile had been here almost daily for the past two weeks. She had apparently taken it upon herself to get to know Charlie and to help her 'settle in'. That seemed to involve bringing the local dressmaker and tailor in to outfit her and Danny with new wardrobes 'befitting their station'. "What is with that woman?"

Monroe grinned. "She's a social climber. You're General Matheson's daughter, you'll be twenty-one in...less than two weeks, unless I've got my dates wrong, and she has a handsome, unmarried son just a few years older than you. She sees an opportunity."

"For what? To be my mother-in-law?"

"I doubt she'll be the only one. She's just more aggressive than most." Charlie gave another frustrated noise and fell back onto the bed again. She could here the smile in his voice. "We both know you don't want to be shut up in that work room with your mom and her lessons and we both know you don't want to deal with that barracuda. Keep me company. Anything on the menu, on me." She looked up at the ceiling and said nothing. "The outside is calling."

Her face turned towards the window and the sunshine pouring in. She did want to go out. From her window the city looked interesting, with shops and people moving about. And Monroe wouldn't hurt her, not if he wanted Miles to cooperate with him. It was just going somewhere for lunch.

And that thought made her stomach growl. It was time to eat after all.

"Okay," she said as she rolled back up and stood, "I'm in."

He smiled. "Good. Let's get going before someone shows up with something for me to do." He stepped aside and indicated that she should go first, closing the door behind her. Then, after a stop at a hall closet to get her jacket, just delivered by the tailors shop the previous week and never worn, Charlie took her first steps outside of Liberty Hall since she had come to after her injuries.

The city didn't smell as...clean as the open road or her small village. It didn't smell horrible, just like a lot of people lived there. Underneath the scent of the bakery, roasting and smoking meats and other businesses open along the streets there were those of horses, human waste from the sewer tunnels under the streets and just...people. That and the noise made things a bit disorienting for her. She hadn't realized she'd stopped until she felt one of Monroe's hands come to rest at the small of her back.

"Are you all right?"

Charlie shook herself. "Yes, just...trying to get my bearings." She noticed the four guards that had come up to take up places about them and arched a brow. Monroe shrugged.

"They come with the job." He offered a slight smile and nodded his head towards their left. "This way."

They walked along the street. Charlie noted that people cleared the way as they approached, getting off the sidewalk or pulling their horses up short. When they reached the pretty park she could see from her window they turned right and made their way down along the row of shops, bars and businesses until they reached one with a glass door that had a gleaming brass handle. One of the guards opened the door and held it for them, Monroe motioning her to go in first.

The place still had quite the crowd even though it was a little past one. The wood floor had been waxed and polished until it gleamed under the candle light reflected in crystal chandeliers and the tables were covered by crisp, white table cloths. More than a few people looked up when they walked in and the excited, muted chattered that followed made Charlie self-conscious. She was grateful when a man in a pressed suit hurried to them so she'd have something to focus on.

"President Monroe, it is good to have you with us again."

"Always good to be back." Charlie told herself not to pull away as Monroe placed an arm behind her back, his gloved fingers resting on her opposite shoulder. Miles was supposed to be a loyal member of the Monroe Militia hierarchy again, and how she acted in public might be seen as a reflection of that.

This had been a mistake.

"Joseph, may I introduce Miss Charlotte Matheson? She has been kind enough to keep me company this afternoon so I have someone to talk to besides cranky officers and politicians."

The man smiled warmly and inclined his head towards her. "An honor to make your acquaintance, Miss Matheson. You've been one of the main topics of conversation in this town since your arrival." He looked back to Monroe. "Two for lunch, then, Sir? Your table is ready as always."

Joseph led them to a table that was set a little way away from the rest of the patrons, far enough away from the kitchen doors to avoid the traffic and with a clear shot to what looked like an emergency exit that would lead outside. One of guards checked the table and chairs first, searching underneath them for any possible dangers before nodding to Monroe and taking up a position by the fire door. Another took up a position by the wall and the other two stayed near the front entrance. Joseph bore all this with apparent endless patience before he pulled out a chair for her. She sat down with a soft 'thank you'.

A waiter came over with menus and a pitcher of ice water. Joseph went over the specials as their glasses were filled. Everything sounded delicious, though some of it Charlie had only read or heard about. She didn't remember pasta, though she supposed she probably had eaten some version of it before the Blackout, and being so far inland as Wisconsin she didn't know if she'd ever had any type of fish that hadn't been caught from a freshwater lake, pond or river. She was certain she'd never had pheasant or mussels. Part of her wanted to try something new, but another part of her didn't want to come across as ignorant or a rube. Not with so many people doing such a poor job of "not" staring at her.

Monroe must has sensed her unease. He leaned over towards her, his voice pitched low so it wouldn't carry past their table. "Trust my lead?" She gave a barely perceptible nod of affirmation just as the waiter returned to take their order. "The young lady will have the risotto and chicken. Bring me the pheasant."

"Anything other than water to drink, Sir?"

"Do you have a Riesling?" The man gave an affirmative. "A bottle."

"Yes, Sir." He took the menus and hurried off to put in the order. Monroe leaned back in his chair, looking comfortable and confident. 

"Ignore them, Charlotte. People love to gossip. The trick is not to let it bother you."

"You'd think they could find something more interesting to talk about." She kept her voice as low as his, moving her lips only enough to be coherent.

He smirked. "More interesting than General Matheson returning to Philly with his long lost daughter in tow? You're the most interesting bit of gossip they've had since your father tried to kill me."

"They know about that?"

"Gossip. It travels faster than fire."

"Great." 

"Isn't it fun?" His tone was dry enough that she was fairly certain he was being sarcastic. "Have you had alcohol before?"

"No. My step-mother was a doctor. Really strict about such things and Dad mostly backed her on them."

As if on cue a silver ice bucket with a bottle wrapped in a white towel was deposited at their table. Monroe waved the man off after he had uncorked it with a "We'll pour ourselves, thank you," and let him get out of earshot. "Let's wait until the food arrives then. It will go straight to your head on an empty stomach. So Ben moved on?"

"Well, yeah, we thought Mom was dead."

"What was she like, your step-mother?"

It still hurt. "She was great, but I didn't realize that until I lost her. I was such a brat to her but she never gave me anything but love." She still felt like a little shit for that.

"What happened?"

"A guy in Lowell, Indiana. He had a pack of dogs. He'd set them on people passing thru, let them kill them and keep their gear. He got Maggie with a knife, cut an artery. We tried sewing it shut but she'd lost too much blood."

"I'm sorry for your loss. What happened to the guy?"

"Miles killed him."

"That sounds about right." Their food was delivered. Charlie had never seen a meal so carefully arranged. It looked more like art than a meal but the aroma was mouth watering. The cook at Liberty Hall was good, and the food there was probably the best she'd ever had, but this looked to be on a whole other level of skill.

Monroe thanked the server and pulled the wine from the ice, pouring some into each of their glasses. "Go ahead and try it. I think you'll like it."

The chicken had been flattened and rolled up with a stuffing of seasoned bread and vegetables. Charlie tried the risotto first, having never heard of it that she could recall. The creamy grain dish with cheese, mushrooms and just a little onion was warm and somehow comforting. She knows Monroe is watching her and tells herself not to let it rattle her. "It's...delicious. What is it?"

It's rice, just very skillfully done. Pretty sure it's Italian." 

They ate their meal while asking one another questions. Monroe asked her about what she liked to do and her journey across the Republic. She asked him about what Miles was like before the Blackout and how they had become so close. In time she was able to forget all the eyes watching her and just enjoy the food and having someone to talk to who wasn't a doctor, medic or a mother trying to bond by trying to teach her things she had no interest in learning. She didn't notice the crowd thinning out as they say there, their food long finished and the last of the wine growing warm in her glass.

"I should get you back before Rachel goes into hysterics."

"What?"

"It's nearly four thirty. We've been here over three hours."

It was? They had? "Oh. Yeah, probably a good idea." How had she not noticed that?

Monroe got up as Joseph came back over. "I hope everything was to your liking, Sir."

"Joseph, everything was excellent always." He shook some diamonds out from a black pouch he'd had tucked inside his jacket and handed them over. "Thank you for indulging us for so long. We'll clear out so you can get ready for the dinner shift."

"It was our pleasure, Sir. And I do hope you'll join us again some day, Miss Matheson."

Charlie wasn't quite sure what to say. "Thank you. Everything was wonderful."

The guards fell into place again and Monroe escorted her from the restaurant and back towards Liberty Hall.


	4. Chapter 4

Miles returned to the city by horseback, not by helicopter. It wasn't that he was afraid of flying, it was just that he felt he should be with the men as they returned. He handed off the reins of his mount to one of the hands from the stables and unfastened his pack, slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way to Liberty Hall.

He'd done it. With the choppers they had made relatively quick work of the rebel bases. Neville Junior had proven useful. He was almost as good at tracking as Charlie and he didn't question his secondary orders. He'd found the bases, and when he'd spied Nora and Aaron at one of them, he'd gotten close enough to them to warn them to get the hell out. Neither Miles nor Jason wanted to be the one to have to cone home to Charlie and tell her that her friends were dead because of their actions.

Of course, that meant there were some tattered remnants of the rebels still out there, he didn't think for a minute that they wouldn't have passed the warning on to the others, but fear would make rebuilding their numbers difficult.

All hail the conquering hero.

He walked past the guards without so much as acknowledging them, walking into the building that served as both base of operations and home. His boots rang out on the hardwood floors as he moved through the hallways to Bass' office. He could hear voices drifting out from the open door.

"...when we make our move on Georgia. That should should cause enough chaos and disruption in their troops that our men can come and mop up."

"I'd feel better if we had more than two amplifiers. Tanks would be nice."

"Jeremy, you're worse than a wife. Never satisfied." Miles unshouldered his pack and set it on the floor by one of the wing backed chairs sitting off to the side. "If we gave you tanks then you'd you'd be bitching that you wanted fighter jets."

Bass grinned. "Or a C130 with a daisy cutter payload. That would be sweet." Miles frowned. "What?"

"Little messy don'tcha think? Those were meant to clear landing zones in jungle terrain."

"What's a daisy cutter?"

"Extra large ordnance, needs a C130 to deliver and only one can be delivered at a time."

Bass took over. "Because of how it's weighted, the bomb drops nose down. It has this long tip on the end that acts like as the trigger. The tip hits the ground, the bomb's weight depresses it and shrapnel goes out in all directions. Mows down and vegetation and obstacles in a circular pattern. They used it to clear out landing zones for helicopters in Nam and in Afghanistan to take out poppy fields. Drop one in the middle of an enemy camp and you've got soldier tare tare."

Miles nodded. "Like I said, messy."

"And we'd have to find both the cutter and a salvageable plane."

Jeremy topped off his drink. "Well that's probably not going to happen. When do we start the march on Georgia?"

"I just got back in. I need to go over rosters and troop locations. See what I have to work with."

"Not to mention it's a big day the day after tomorrow?"

"What's happening the day after tomorrow?"

"Miles' baby girl turns twenty-one."

Baker grinned. "The big one. They grow up so fast, don't they? Bar crawl?"

"God no! I'm not taking Charlie to the bars in this town. I know the men that go there."

"We'll do it at home, then."

Miles looked at Bass. "Do what?"

"It's practically a right of passage, Miles. You gonna tell me you didn't bring back something special in that pack of yours?" He pointed to the pack on the floor. Miles rolled his eyes and went over to the pack and unfastened it, pulling out a large bottle with a sketch of a stag on it. "Where the fuck did you find a bottle if Glenfiddich 15?"

Miles shrugged. "I know a guy who knows a guy. Figured I might as well start her out right."

"Father of the year, hands down." Bass grinned. "You know those two cases on ice wine you managed to get your hands on and then abandoned when you took off?" Miles narrowed his eyes at him. "I still have three bottles left. I figured I chill one and we'd start her out on that."

"We?"

Bass spread his hands wide. "Who else? What safer environment could she have to get shit faced for he first time than with two people with as much experience as us?"

"Am I invited to this party?"

"If you bring something to contribute."

Jeremy grinned. "I think I can come up with something suitable."

Miles rolled his eyes. Clearly he wasn't going to get out of having company for this, but at Jeremy might help mitigate Bass' presence. "We'll have to do it after Rachel falls asleep. Otherwise she'll insist on being there and spend the whole night lecturing us."

"Yeah, not the way to kick off your twenty-first. So, family dinner and you tell the birthday girl to creep back down here about...eleven?"

"That should be late enough."

"It's a party. Or at least it will be. Do you think she knows how to play poker?"

"We can always teach her. Maybe Jeremy will finally have a chance at winning."

Charlie had thought it an odd request when Miles had asked her not to go to sleep after dinner. He'd already given her a present, a new crossbow to replace the one that had been left behind in the tunnels and had vanished by the time someone had gone back for it. Unlike her pre-Blackout crossbow made from primarily man made materials, this one was a hand crafted work of art, almost too beautiful to believe it was a weapon. She'd teared up, in front of Monroe of all people, and had hugged her father so tightly that he complained she was trying to strangle him. She'd felt like a heel about avoiding her mother and her workshop when she and Danny gave her a music box they'd built together for her. They'd salvaged pieces of mirror and stained glass so that it shone and reflected the sunlight filtering through her bedroom window.

Even Monroe had given her a present; an excellently balanced sword. She hadn't been sure how to respond, but an encouraging nod from Miles over the man's shoulder had her summoning up a somewhat awkward smile. "Once Granger gives you the all clear to start working on building back up your strength, we'll start teaching you how to use it. Given your position within the Republic it's not a bad idea for you to know how to hold your own in a fight, just in case you're ever caught without a guard or are outnumbered." She knew her mother didn't like the idea of her accepting anything from Monroe, but she kept her mouth shut about it.

She waited until the clock in the square began to chime the eleven o'clock hour and slipped out of her room. Mom and Danny would both be asleep by now but she moved quietly as she made her way down the steps and halls to Monroe's office. The door was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light from inside to fall through and voices to be heard.

"I can't believe you drank it all."

"I didn't drink it all, there are three bottles left. And you're the one who ran off and left it here. Possession is nine tenths of the law, Brother. You still have excellent tastes, by the way."

"Do you realize how rare it is for the circumstances to be just right to even make that stuff? You have to get a freeze while the grapes are still on the vines and then you have to manage to pick them and get started before they thaw."

"I'm going to take a stab in the dark as to that being why it's called 'ice wine'. Quit bitching or Charlie and me won't share."

"My daughter would share with me. She actually likes me."

Charlie pushed the door open, poking her head in curiously. It was the third man in the room, Baker?, who noticed her. "Finally! The birthday girl is here. Now we can get started."

She looked around the room. The table that hand held a map of the continent the last time she'd been in here had been cleared off. Now two ice buckets, each with a wine bottle, sat there along with a couple of other bottles, glasses and what looked like a deck of cards. "Get what started?"

Monroe grinned as he uncorked one of the wine bottles. "An age old tradition. It used to be, before the Blackout, that you had to be twenty-one before you could legally drink. In the US at least."

"Which was bullshit," Miles added, "because at eighteen you could vote, drive and enlist in the military so you could be sent overseas and potentially die."

"True. Anyway, the tradition was that when you turned twenty-one, one of two things happened. First option was that one of your buddies got to be the designated sober person who drove everyone else around to various bars while you all got drunk off your asses."

"However," chimed in Jeremy, "as your father pointed out the other day, we know who's in the bars around here. We're not about to take someone who looks...well...like you out amongst a bunch of drunk, horny soldiers. The resulting damage from all the limbs he would be cutting off wouldn't be good for morale."

"They'd learn to keep their hands to themselves."

"Miles, you do realize she's likely to want to actually get close to someone one day, right?" Monroe was trying not to smile as he poured four glasses of the wine. "I mean, she might even want to have sex one day."

"And let that've the last time anyone mentions my daughter and sex in the same sentence."

Baker rolled his eyes. "You're going to be one of those dad's, aren't you?"

"Yep." Miles didn't sound the least bit apologetic. "Anyway, since bar hopping is our, we're going with option two; we stay indoors and everyone gets drunk off their asses."

"Here, here!" Monroe passed out the glasses to everyone and then held his up in a toast. "To the birthday girl, may the dawn see you with one glorious hangover."

So apparently the plan was to drink herself sick. Maggie would have a cow. No wonder Miles had told her to wait until Mom was asleep to come down. Was this smart? Probably not, but Miles would be here the entire time. And she knew he could handle his liquor. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her.

She took a sip of the wine. It was sweet, like a desert, and delicious. She smiled a bit and Monroe caught it. "See? Miles always did have excellent taste. I always envied him that. I figured we'd start you out on something easy rather than hit the hard stuff right away."

"You know how to play cards,Charlie? Is it okay if I call you 'Charlie?"

She nodded to Baker. "It's fine, and I do know a few kinds of poker, and black jack."

"Let's stick with poker."

Miles reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather pouch he then tossed to her as Baker and Monroe moved chairs around the table. "You'll need something to bet with. Consider that your allowance."

The pouch contained probably five ounces of loose diamonds. She arched a questioning brow to which Miles only shrugged. "I have a lot of years to make up for."

Baker plopped down in a chair on one side of Miles leaving Charlie to take the other. However, this put her between Miles and Monroe. The president ponied up his own pouch of diamonds before topping off everyone's glasses again. "So the idea is to get me drunk?"

"Completely plastered. If you can walk yourself back upstairs, then you're too sober." The bottle wasn't that large and they already emptied it. He pulled the second bottle from the ice and uncorked it. 

"And this is an 'age old tradition'?"

"If you don't believe me or Jeremy, ask your father."

Charlie glanced at Miles who confirmed it with a shrug. "It's your day, Kid. Name your game."

Well, if they were going to be dumb enough to okay for real diamonds, "Five card stud."

The ice wine was gone too quickly, and Monroe refused to dig out the last bottle. They moved on to the Glenfiddich, which was stronger and took her by surprise. It also went to her head faster, but not so fast she couldn't remember how to play. After several rounds, and the growth of her 'allowance', Baker narrowed his gaze at her.

"Who taught you how to play?"

"Aaron."

Miles frowned. "Pittman?" She nodded. "I knew that guy was too smart."

Monroe refilled their glasses again. "What did he do before the Blackout?"

"He worked for some place called Google. Apparently did well for himself. He owned a plane and had something like...eighty million dollars in the bank."

Baker let out a long, low whistle. "The Blackout sucked hard for him."

Miles frowned. "Just how smart is he?"

"I dunno. I think I heard him say he has a few doctorates. Went to so e place called MIT."

Things clicked. "Charlie, are you counting cards?" Jeremy bit out a curse. Monroe threw his head back and laughed. Charlie gave a shrug.

"What?"

"That's cheating."

"How's it cheating? It's strategy."

"Not if you get caught doing it in a casino."

Jeremy threw his cards on the table. "Miles, I'll shine your boots for a month if you set up a game between her and Neville. I'd love to see him taken down a peg."

Monroe shook his head. "You're missing the point, Jeremy. If she's still able to keep track of the cards like that, then she's clearly not drunk enough. What did you bring?"

Jeremy got up and went over to his pack. He opened the top and pulled out a clear bottle with a smug smile.

"Where did you find Patron?"

"To quote you, 'I know a guy who knows a guy'." He opened it as he walked back over to the table. "This will do the job."

Miles had to help her back up the stairs and into her room, sometime close to four in the morning. He hid a smile as he poured her into her bed before setting himself to getting her comfortable. Shoes off, jeans off and replacing her shirt with one that was oversized and comfortable to sleep in. She drifted in and out of consciousness as she watched him move the waste bin from beside her desk to the space next to the bed.

"'sat for?"

"For when you throw up."

"I'm not go...throw up."

Miles smirked." Of course not." He bent over and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair. "Sleep it off. I'll keep Rachel off your back tomorrow."

"G'night." She was already falling back into slumber as he shut the door to her room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustration is spending hours to write a chapter, then accidentally deleting it before you can get it posted. Maybe the second go around is better.

"Damn it!" Charlie shook her hand out before sucking on the freshly skinned knuckle. The taste of copper tickled her tongue but it didn't stop the smarting. "Shit! Damn! Son-of-bitch!"

"I think living in a house filled with soldiers is having a negative effect on your vocabulary." Monroe smiled briefly. "Or improving it. Could go either way. Try and pay attention this time."

They were working on sword fighting using wooden practice blades. They'd been at it for a while, long enough that Charlie had stripped down to just her jeans and tank and Monroe had ditched his shirt. He moved with a deceptive gait, seemingly relaxed and not even intending to strike, but she'd learned quickly that he can go from near stillness to the speed of lightning before she could blink. 

He struck and she brought up her sword to block his attack. That was all she usually managed, but every now and again she could get in a strike of her own. And, if she avoided getting to cocky about it, her number of strikes were gradually growing in number. She was getting better.

"What the Hell is going on here?!"

Her mother's voice startled her enough that she almost missed Monroe's downward strike. She managed to block it just in time by using both hands to lift her sword overhead to catch the full strength of the blow. The pain of it reverberated down both her arms. "Fuck!"

Monroe stepped back, light on his feet, and looked towards the open door. "Your daughter is trying to learn how to hold her own in a sword fight. You are apparently trying to get her arms broken. What do you want, Rachel?"

Her mother's jaw tightened as she glared at Monroe. "Charlie, come with me."

"Stay where you are, Charlotte."

Rachel paused. "Excuse me?"

"We're busy, Rachel. You may not appreciate how big of a target is on her back now that everyone knows who her father is, but I do. Bullets are scarce and her crossbow takes time to reload. She needs to learn this."

"Oh, band you're the best one to teach her."

"With Miles tied up with planning our offensive against Georgia, yes."

"Charlie go to your room."

"Really, Rachel? She's twenty-one, a little old to be sent to her room like a misbehaving child. Especially when she's not doing a damn thing wrong."

"How dare you tell me how to raise my child."

"Charlotte raised herself, Rachel. And Danny if you want to get technical about it. She walked a thousand miles just to get him back! Oh, but congratulations on remembering that you have a daughter. The way you keep focused on your son all the time, I sometimes wonder if you've forgotten her all together."

"What the Hell is going on in here? They can hear you two shouting all the way to the parade grounds." Miles stepped into the room, an imposing wall of cold in his black uniform. "Bass, where's your shirt?"

"It was getting too hot in here."

"Put your clothes back on."

Monroe tossed his wooden blade into a bin that held several more and reclaimed his shirt. He pulled in over sweat slicked skin and started buttoning it up. "Modesty preserved, Dad?" Miles rolled his eyes in answer. "She's a natural, by the way. Should be ready to move up to a live blade in about a month."

"I don't like her spending so much time with him."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "I'm standing right here." None of them seemed to notice. Maybe if she whacked Monroe across the back they'd start paying attention to her.

"She needs to learn, Rachel. Granger gave her to go ahead, and she knows to stop if her head starts to bother her."

"But it's got to be him?"

Then again, her father's skull was thick enough she could she could probably break the wooden blade over it and he'd barely notice.

"He's one of the few people who can take me in a sword fight, and I don't gave the time to do it."

"There has to be someone else,"

"You know what?" She tossed her blade in the bin as well as they finally looked at her. "I'm done. When the three of you start acting like adults and stop pulling at me like toddlers fighting over a favorite toy, let me know." With that she marched forward, brushing past her parents and almost colliding with Jeremy in the hall.

"Where are you going," her father's voice rang out behind her.

"Somewhere that isn't here!" She heard Baker mutter something before his booted feet hurried on the wooden floors to catch up to here. "I don't need a baby sitter. Isn't that what they're for?" She motioned at the four guards who were detaching themselves from the wall to follow her.

"Yeah, but they have to pay attention to their job and you might want someone to talk to. Got a destination in mind?"

"Haven't really thought that far ahead."

"Then allow me to suggest the establishment directly across the square from us."

Charlie looked to where Jeremy was pointing and then back at the officer. "I thought I was supposed to avoid the bars in this town. Something about rowdy soldiers."

"It was randy soldiers and that was late at night when they'd be good and liquored up. It's only two in the afternoon and most of them will still be in duty." He smiled and offered her his elbow. "I've been around Monroe and Matheson since almost right after the Blackout. I love them both, but I also know they can drive you to drink. And, no offense, but your mother is no picnic, either."

"That's for damn sure." Charlie looped her arm through Baker's. "Shall we?"

The bar only had a few patrons this early. A couple of officers whose shift started before daybreak and thus ended early. Some locals. It wasn't as shady as the bar Miles had in Chicago had been. There were table cloths and the brass bar along the actual bar was polished and gleaming. Baker escorted her up to the high stools and they sat down while he ordered a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

"So," he started as he poured their first drinks, "what set off the shouting match this time?"

"The usual, she doesn't want Monroe within one hundred miles of me. Although that's a little difficult seeing how we're living in his house." She slammed back her drink with hardly a grimace. She hadn't been drinking long, but she had learned quickly.

"Wow, handling your liquor is genetic. Who would have thought?" He refilled her glass.

"She'd rather I hole up with her and Danny in her work room while she drones on about science and machines and how things work. I mean, I get that it's important stuff, especially now we have power, but I just don't care about those things. That's always been what Danny was into. He and Dad would spend hours on stuff like that."

"And what did you want to do?"

"Hunt. Explore. Just...anything. As long as it was exciting or got me good and tired by the end of the day." She was a little slower with the second drink. "I remember getting my first crossbow. I had been saving up what I got from the pelts for three years, just waiting for the trade wagons to come through. Dad was pissed when he found out what I'd bought but nothing was going to stop me from being the best shot in town." She finished the glass. "And I dud, you know. I was our village's best hunter. Everyone said so. Brought in enough not just for our family but several of the others, too."

Baker smiled. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

She shook her head. "She acts so high and mighty. Like she's never wrong, or like she's never done anything wrong. Like she didn't screw around on a good man with his own brother. Well, hello, the proof is sitting right here." She sipped from her third drink. "We weren't even doing anything. I want to learn how to use a sword, Miles is too busy to teach me and Monroe wasn't. She acts like she's afraid I'll catch something from him or something." Baker nearly choked on his drink when he laughed mid-swallow. "What?"

He coughed a few times and shook his head. "Nothing. Just, inappropriate thoughts. Not suitable for a lady's ears." She arched a brow at him. "I'm not telling you."

"Fine, keep your secrets. I'm only pouring my heart out here."

"And I'm just keeping you company because I loved the looks on their faces when you compared them to toddlers. You really should have turned around to admire your handiwork. I think your mother was close to having a stroke, and no one talks to Monroe like that. Well maybe your father does, but no one else."

She thought about that and a giggle escaped her. "That funny?"

"Hilarious."

They both shared a laugh then, and some more whiskey. Baker told her the story about how Miles and Monroe had saved his life right after he blackout and how their original intentions had been to make some order out of the chaos. It was a side of things she'd never heard before and she found herself wondering where everything went wrong. How had her father and Monroe wandered so far from their original intent? Had they seen it happening, or had they been blind to it all?

"You feeling a little less murderous yet?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw your face, Kitten. Which one were you going to start wailing on?"

"I was still debating the options. In the end I figured Miles would never forgive me if I killed Monroe and stuck him with the job of president."

"Oh, never. He'd probably make you do it."

"Eww."

"Right? Who in their right mind would want that job?"

"Well, there are those rumors about Monroe."

Baker smirked. "Let's get you home before Miles starts to question my intentions. I like my balls where they are."

"Don't worry, I'll protect you from the big, scary general."

"Your father is scary, Kitten. He just likes you more than most."

Baker left some gold on the bar before they walked outside. She glanced over to rib him about being afraid of Miles when a rapport barked out, followed by a chunk of the brick wall next to her head exploding, bits of mortar and stone biting hotly into her cheek.

Baker tackled her to the ground and began pulling her back into the bar, all the while shouting orders. Two of her guards took up defensive positions while the other two ran off in the direction from where the shot came.

"Charlotte! Say something!"

"You're heavy!"

He sighed in relief and rolled off her. The soldiers and officers who had trickled in while they had been drinking were now scrambling to join the hunt outside. Jeremy was looking her over. "Fuck, you're bleeding." He grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and started to dab at her cheek.

"Blowback from the wall. It's nothing."

"Your father isn't going to think its nothing. He's going to shit a brick when he sees this"

~***~

Jeremy hadn't been far wrong. Miles was furious. He stood in the shadows, his dark eyes staring at the man in the cell about ten feet away. The prisoner had a cut lip and a blackening eye, injuries sustained in his apprehension.

The bastard was still wearing his Militia uniform.

He stepped out of the darkness, his rage simmering just below the surface. The man met his gaze unblinkingly.

"Why?"

"Fuck you, Sir." The last word was filled with venom, practically spat out. 

Miles balled up his fist and slammed it across the man's jaw. His head snapped to one side but he slowly brought it back around. "Why?"

"Think about it. You can figure it out."

Miles struck him a second time, then a third and a fourth. This time the man spat out a mouthful of blood and a broken tooth. A bicuspid from the look of it. "Why?"

The soldier's eyes brimmed with hate. "You waltz back into town, put the uniform back on and we're just supposed to believe you have our best interests at heart? You. Abandoned. Us." He took a breath, his body trembling. "Do you know the kind of chaos you left behind? Soldiers didn't know if they should desert and follow you or if they should stay. Riots broke out amongst the men. President Monroe stepped up to take up the slack, but you were the one who had been leading us. It took time for him to find his stride, and by then we'd lost a lot of good men. A lot of good friends. But we're supposed to believe all us forgiven now? Pardon me for not buying it, Sir."

Miles had expected something like that. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it. "Why target Charlotte? She's just some farm girl from Wisconsin. She doesn't owe you a thing."

"You think we haven't heard about her? About the things you two did on your way here? She's a regular chip off the old the block. Probably your pride and joy. I figured...get rid of her and you'd show your true colors. Maybe that would break whatever hold you have on Monroe and he'd have you drug out in front of a firing squad like he should of done the second you got back to town"

Miles' jaw worked, fist fist aching to strike him again, but there was no need. He had his answers. He turned away and walked out of the cell, telling himself that Charlie was safe. She was at Liberty Hall, just a few minor cuts on her cheek from debris that would heal without even a scar. 

He didn't look at the man who had been standing in the shadows with him. He heard the footsteps approaching the cell, heard the soldier say, "President Monroe?" He heard the shot echo against the cold stone walls of the prison, almost hiding the sound of Bass walking back to his side. He smelled the cordite as his brother holstered his side arm.

"Miles..."

"Don't." He didn't want to have this conversation again.

Bass sighed. "It would solve more than a few problems, and you know it."

Yes, he did know it. That didn't make it any easier to swallow.

~***~

"Absolutely not! You did not agree to this!"

"Give me some credit, Rachel. Of course I didn't." Miles shot a look over at the sofa wheee Charlie and Danny were seated. "I told him it would have to be her call. That I wasn't going to order her into it."

"It's insanity! For all we know Monroe ordered that hit on her."

"He didn't."

"How can you be sure? This is Monroe we're talking about. He was always jealous of any attention you showed to anyone other than him. Why wouldn't he see her as yet more competition?"

"Because he wouldn't!" Now Miles' voice was getting louder. "I know Bass and how he feels about family. He lost a child of his own, the mother along with her. He knows first hand how that feels. I helped him through that, and he knows how much Charlie means to me. He wouldn't do that to me."

Rachel scoffed. "Right, because he's so honorable."

"BECAUSE HE KEPT ME TOGETHER AFTER WE FINALLY REACHED CHICAGO!" Miles stepped back and took a few calming breaths. "I didn't tell anyone about Charlie. Not even Bass. Not until we finally made it to Chicago and you weren't there. The house was empty, not even a fucking clue as to which direction you'd gone...I lost it. The deal was that Charlie would be there anytime I came home, and she wasn't. You and Ben took off with my kid and didn't even leave me a damn note to let me know she was all right." He realized that he'd stepped in to the point that he was looming over Rachel and stepped back. "That was when I finally told Bass about her. He kept me sane. Kept me focused. He wouldn't put me through that again."

Rachel nodded begrudgingly. "Okay, so you're confident that it wasn't him. But this? Don't you think it's a bit of an overkill in response to a single attempt?"

"How many attempts have there been?" The siblings had stayed quiet through most of the 'discussion'. Charlie's voice sounded oddly loud to his ears now.

"Well, unless you've been keeping secrets, just the one."

Danny rolled his eyes. "She means against you, asshole. How many attempts have there been on you?"

Miles hesitated. He hadn't wanted to worry them. Hadn't wanted them to know. Apparently he waited too long because his daughter came up off the couch with a scowl.

"Oh come on! Don't you think we've had enough lies and half truths? I'm pretty sure Danny and me have. My dad is really my uncle. My uncle is really my father."

"Oh, and our parents ended the world," Danny added. "We can't forget that one."

Rachel blinked at her children, clearly not having expected any feedback from that direction. Did she think they were still the little kids she'd left with Ben nearly a decade ago? If Danny was half as stubborn as his sister, she was in for a world of surprise and frustration.

Charlie looked at him. "How many?"

"Five. Four while we were in the field dealing with the rebel camps and one since returning to the city."

She nodded. "All of them because the men don't trust you, and yet you're planning to lead the offensive against Georgia, where you'll be out in the field with troops that may listen to you or slip a knife between your ribs." She seemed to weigh this information in her mind before nodding to herself. "I want to talk to him."

"Charlie, no! I won't allow this."

"No offense, Mom, but you gave up the right to tell me what I can and cannot do when you walked out on us. Miles said he told him it had to be my decision. I can't very well make an informed one without talking to the other party."

"I left to protect you."

"Really, Mom?" Danny's voice was laced with skepticism. "How much of it was to protect us and how much of it was because you wanted to see Miles again? Because everyone in this room knows you two stabbed Dad in the back before."

Rachel looked as if Danny had physically slapped her. Charlie shrugged and twisted the knife deeper. "I have to admit, I've been wondering the same thing." Yes, Rachel was in for a world of hurt. He recognized what he was seeing. It was the same type of bond he and Bass shared. No matter what, no matter who, the kids would stick by one another and nothing was going to change that. In their eyes, their mother had a lot to make up for.

Miles met his daughter's gaze head on. "He works late. You'll probably still find him in his office."

Charlie nodded and walked to the door. Miles grabbed Rachel's arm and held her back when she moved to stop her.

~***~

True to his prediction, she found Monroe in his office. He looked up from the papers on his desk as she came in. "Charlotte? You're up late. Today still troubling you?"

"Only partially." She looked at the guards in the room. "Can I talk with privately?"

Monroe hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Clear the room. Shut the door behind you." The guards left and he waited until the double doors clicked shut before speaking again. "I take it you've been taking with your father."

"Oh, we all did. Major family meeting." She watched him as he crossed over to a table with a decanter of whiskey and crystal glasses. He poured them both a drink. "Why didn't anyone mention the attempts on Miles' life?"

"That was his idea. He didn't want to worry you. I tried to point out to him that you were likely getting tiered of people keeping secrets from you." He walked over and offered her one of the glasses. 

"Yeah, Danny and I just pointed that out to both of them. Miles seems to get it. It may take Mom a while to recover."

Monroe didn't bother to hide his smirk. "Sorry I missed that meeting."

Charlie took a sip of the whiskey, steeling her nerves. "So, what gave you this half-baked idea?"

He arched a brow at her. "It's hardly 'half-baked'. Your father tried to kill me. Then he deserted, leaving the Militia confused and in chaos. The men aren't fully accepting or trusting of his return, even with my endorsement. They need something to assuage their concerns. They need. Show of faith."

"And this is what you come up with?"

"There are centuries of precedent to support it." He swallowed half of his whiskey before continuing. "People forget, but marriage for love was a relatively modern concept and one that mostly existed in industrialized nation where there were plenty of jobs and resources that such a luxury could be allowed. Before that, marriage was a more practical decision. Nobility married to stop wars and strengthen alliances. Wealthy families married to seal business deals and to unite and protect fortunes. Even among the 'common folk' marriage was a way to secure a stable home or avoid starvation. After the blackout, things started swinging that way again. You've had to have seen it at least once. A girl marrying a man because he's a good provider who can keep food on the table. A widower remarrying quickly so the child from his first marriage will have a mother to help care for him."

She had seen it. Hell, she'd been approached about the second one when she was only eighteen. A man ten years her senior whose wife had died of the flu and with two boys under five. She'd turned him down and he'd married another girl only a few months older than her in less than a week. "You think this would work?"

"Hard to doubt a man's loyalty to someone he's willing to hand over his only daughter to as a wife." 

"Yeah, but then you'd be stuck with me. You barely know me."

He turned back to his desk a pond set his glass down before lifting the blotter and pilling out some papers tucked away there. "When your father showed up that night with you, bleeding and unresponsive, after we cleared out of the room to let Granger set about saving you, I brought him in here. He was a wreck. Barely able to keep still, fighting the urge to run back upstairs to you but knowing he'd be more of a hindrance than a help. He needed distracting, so I asked him to write me a report of everything you two had been up to." 

He held up the papers. "It's all in here. How you found him in Chicago. How you killed the men at the work camp to help Nora steal a sniper rifle. The incident in Lowell where you lost your step-mother, you neglected to tell me the part where you were taken prisoner by that psycho and had a loaded crossbow in a trip wire aimed at your head, by the way. Then there's the part where you agreed to be an assassin to save the lives of your party when Miles took you to Drexel's. He should really have his ass kicked for taking you anywhere near that guy."

He'd been moving closer to her as he summarized the report. He stopped just in front of her as he moved to the next page. "This one is my favorite." He reached down and took hold of her right hand, lifting it up and turning it over to show the Militia band there. "Letting yourself get captured by a conscription crew just to infiltrate the facility and break out a boy you didn't know, all because he was the oldest in a group of war orphans that needed him. You didn't owe them anything, but you were still willing to put yourself on the line like that." He smiled, running his thumb over the brand.

"You have my respect, Charlotte. Only an idiot wouldn't recognize that you deserve that much. If I had a few hundred soldiers like you I wouldn't need the power, but people like you are rare. Especially in this world we live in today. I'm not going to claim love at first sight or try to tell you that I've been captivated by your beauty, although you are beautiful. I won't tell you those things because you've been lied to enough in you life and you deserve better. What I'm offering is my respect, the protection of my name and my position and my fidelity."

That last one took her by surprise. "Fidelity?"

He released her hand and walked back over to return the report to its hiding place. "A man doesn't marry a woman like you then dishonor her by keeping something on the side. I've already calculated what I'll be settling on my mistresses if you agree to marry me."

"Plural? You have more than one?"

"I currently have four. No single one was able to capture my interests fully, so I went for variety."

"So this wouldn't be an 'in name only' arrangement."

"No, if we do this I expect both of us to be fully committed to it. In truth, it wouldn't just soothe the fears of the men and help to settle the Militia down. It's far past time I gave consideration as to what would happen to the Republic after I'm gone. Someone will need to lead. A son or daughter of my own would be the best choice. Otherwise there'd likely be a civil war over it and all this could end up in the hands of someone like Neville. Useful man to have, but not one I'd entrust the welfare of the public to."

It crossed her mind to ask why he kept Neville around if he distrusted him so much, but she didn't. "Aren't you worried you'd get bored with just one wife? I mean, I doubt I know half the things your FOUR mistresses do."

He grinned at her and she felt an unexpected flip-flop in her stomach. The man had a devastating smile. Maybe that was how he got all those people to follow him; he probably smiled them into submission. "You forget, Charlotte, it's not just Miles' report I've read. I've also read Tom's, he really doesn't like you, by the way. And I have spent time with you myself. I'm fairly certain marriage to you would be anything but boring."

She swallowed. What had Miles said? That he'd get into bed with the Devil himself if it meant keeping her safe? She guessed it was her turn to make that decision, and there was the same devil with whom Miles had made his bargain smiling at her.

She took a breath. "If we do this, there's something I'm going to want in return."


	6. Chapter 6

The time it took from the night Charlie agreed to marry President Sebastian Monroe to the actual day of her wedding was two weeks. And it wasn't even some small, quiet ceremony with just family and a few key officers. No, it was a full on, over-the-top affair held at St John the Evangelist, a beautiful old church that had been standing for over one hundred years and was one of the few houses of worship in the city still used for that purpose.

Maybe Monroe had wanted to get it done before she could change her mind. Her mother certainly tried everything she could think of to get her to do so. Yelling, scolding, pleading, crying, she pulled out the entire arsenal. When Charlie wouldn't budge, she turned to Danny in hopes that he might hold some sway over his sister. Her brother had informed their mother that he wasn't any happier about this than she was, but if she had trusted an eleven-year-old Charlie to look after her sick and younger brother then perhaps she should put the same faith and trust in a now grown Charlie that she knew what she was doing. After all she had managed to keep him alive, hadn't she?

Or maybe everyone was really that afraid of her bridegroom. The seamstress, the same one who had done her new wardrobe, was certainly a bundle of nerves when working on her dress. Miles later explained that it was because the dress was being made from silk, a fabric the woman shouldn't even have had. It was unlikely the China silk trade had survived the Blackout, given that their silk worms had been so inbred that they could not survive in the wild or without human intervention. There were other sources, however, that had been transplanted and thrived in parts of Europe. Of course, the Monroe Republic didn't trade with Europe, Georgia did. So the only way the seamstress could have gotten silk was through illegal trading with the enemy. Everyone had known about it, they just hadn't said anything and the woman had believed herself in the clear until she'd been visited by one of Monroe's staff to make the gown. She was clearly frightened, no matter how many times Charlie had tried to reassure her.

Most likely, however, was that Monroe's people were just that efficient. They really were. It was almost frightening how quickly they got everything together. Extra security. Notices posted and distributed to the nearest garrisons where higher ranking officers could feasibly make it in time to attend. Leaflets distributed by helicopter over the rest of the Republic to let the citizens know that there was about to be a new First Lady. The city of Philadelphia scrubbed, polished and decorated with wreathes of greenery, flowers and ribbons hanging from every lamp post. It was as though everything else in the world just stopped for this one day.

Which was probably a good thing because getting into her wedding gown was taking about a year. After being unable to persuade her daughter to back out of the engagement, Rachel had decided to put forth at least some effort in getting her ready for it. She seemed most focused on the gown and had developed an odd obsession with buttons. Scads of tiny buttons. Charlie thought they seemed a bother, but as she and Danny had pretty much given her a verbal bitch slap the night she accepted the proposal, she'd given Rachel this one thing. Though why she needed buttons from the nape of her neck down past her tail bone and then more on her sleeves from her elbows to her wrists she couldn't fathom. It didn't seem to accomplish anything other than make it impossible for her to dress herself, which was annoying.

She wasn't going completely traditional. She had no close female friends back home or in Philly, so Danny was standing with her as her man of honor instead of having a maid or matron. He looked like a fallen angel with his slightly too long hair and his new, perfectly tailored suit. She suspected there would be a lot of female eyes that never even saw her once the women of Philadelphia got their first real look at her baby brother. She was kind of looking forward to the fall out. They might have to get him some bodyguards of his own to hold back the rabid packs of lust crazed women.

"What?" He frowned at her and her amused smirk.

"Nothing. Just admiring my handsome brother."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I just want to get this over with so I can get out of this damn thing."

"Awww, but you look so pretty." He flipped her off and she giggled. The seamstress finally finished fastening the last of the buttons.

"You don't look half bad yourself, Sis. You ready?"

"Not even close, but I suspect that's normal." She looked at herself in the full length mirror. The dress was lovely, a creamy golden white embellished with lace and tiny beads. The neckline was called a 'sweetheart' and was just low enough to allow for a hint of cleavage. The underthings beneath it were just as extravagant and she wore a delicate diamond pendant that had been delivered to her room that morning. A present from her husband-to-be. It wasn't her real wedding gift, though. Jason Neville would not be in attendance today. He was out delivering her real present.

There was a knock on the door before Miles came in. He froze for a moment, staring at her in silence. The moment stretched on long enough that she grew nervous and cleared her throat to shake him out of it.

"Sorry. I just...you look gorgeous."

"Thanks." She looked down at herself. "Still don't see why I have to wear these stupid shoes. This thing is so long I could walk barefoot and no one would know."

A smile graced his face. "There's my girl. I knew you still had to be in there somewhere."She relaxed a bit, glad to have made him smile. "We better start heading down there. Danny, Bass and Jeremy are all ready up front. You should probably take your place."

"On it." He stopped to give Charlie her bouquet and kiss her cheek before disappearing. The seamstress headed out as well, leaving only father and daughter in the room.

"Last chance to change your mind, Kid. Say the word and I'll slash and burn our way out of here."

"And leave Mom and Danny behind? No. I made my deal. I'll stand by it."

"You made it for me. That's a stupid reason to get married, Charlie."

"You agreed to get back in that uniform and return to a job that made you do things you hate for me. That was pretty stupid, too. So does that mean stupidity runs in the family?"

"Yeah. Or a tendency towards self-sacrifice. Or both."

She smiled at him. "Think Mom will manage to keep her mouth shut?"

"She says she will. But just to be safe that 'speak now or forever hold your peace' part is one of two things the priest has been told to leave out."

Charlie frowned. "What's the other?"

"Obey. I told Bass there was no way in Hell you could keep that vow and he should just accept it."

That helped her to keep her smile in place as her father walked her down the aisle and handed her over to his best friend and brother in all but blood. She felt the weight of everyone's eyes on them as they exchanged their vows and rings. The cheering as they were presented as Mr. and Mrs. Monroe was almost enough to drown out the sound of the church bells. The crowd waiting outside as they exited was a sea of faces she could barely register before she was helped up into the waiting carriage and carried away to Liberty Hall where the reception would be held and where she'd be spending her first night in Monroe's quarters as his wife.

Right...she hadn't really given much thought to that part of all this. 

~***~

She would have protested Monroe picking her up and carrying her up the stairs but, one, everyone had been cheering about it and, two, the gown and shoes really were a bitch to navigate in. He could have at least set her back on her feet after they'd reached the top, but the idiot kept on until he got to his...their quarters before doing so.

She took a breath, thankful to finally be free of the crowd downstairs. She could still hear them. Apparently they weren't ready to break up the party just yet. "I've made two observations."

"Oh?" He was undoing the cuff links of his dress uniform. "What might those be?"

"One, someone should really go back in time, find the bastard who invented high heeled shoes and shoot him." She said this as she finally got rid of the offending footwear. "Two, the traditional wedding garb was obviously designed to make it impossible for the bride to bolt if she chickened out."

He laughed, full and deep. It took him a moment to catch his breath. "You might actually be onto something there." He looked...happy. Or at least relaxed. At least one of them wasn't tied up in knots over this whole affair. That or he'd just had more to drink. She'd been such a bundle of nerves all day she hadn't been able to eat hardly anything. Much of her dinner at the reception had gone untouched and the bit of wine she'd tried to drink had sat so uncomfortably on her stomach she hadn't dared a second sip.

"Is Jeremy in trouble?"

"For calling me and Miles a couple of assholes as part of his toast? Nah. The Best Man gets some leeway. I always thought Miles would be my Best Man, but he was a bit tied up with the Father of the Bride part."

He'd hung up his jacket and lain his shirt over the back of the chair at his writing desk. Charlie kept her attention focused on the buttons at her wrist. She couldn't seem to get hold of them. "Stupid...idiotic... What was she thinking?"

"Problem?"

She held out her arms to show him the sleeves. "Like I said, obviously meant to restrain the bride."

He smirked, walking to her and her left arm in his hands. "Rachel's idea, I take it. You know what she was intending." Charlie shook her head. "She meant to frustrate me by making it harder to get to you." She blinked as he deftly undid the first button, then the second and then a third. "Well, the joke is on her." He looked up and met her gaze as he lifted her arm and placed a kiss on the now bared skin.

Charlie swallowed as he continued to undo the buttons on the sleeve, stopping every second or third one to place another kiss. Once he'd worked his way up to the final one at the elbow he moved to her right arm. He paid a bit of extra attention to the Militia brand on the right wrist before continuing the same slow progress to that elbow as well.

By the time he had both sleeves undone Charlie was finding that breathing took actual concentration. He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. She could feel the roughness of his fingertips as he moved her hair aside, draping it over her shoulder. Then there was that same skillful tugging on the buttons at the nape of her neck. She felt only a second of cool air before heated lips touch the skin there.

Charlie gasped, her knees buckling. He caught her, his arms sure and strong as he guided her to the large bed and gently laid her face down across it. She felt the mattress give under his weight, knees straddling her, before he resumed his task.

He went slowly, baring her skin inch by inch, taking time to kiss each one. When he reached the lacy scrap that passed itself off as a bra the clasp seem to pop open with barely a touch from him. Obviously he'd had a little practice getting a woman out of her clothes. The further down her spine he went the more she began to tremble. By the the time he'd reached the last of the buttons her skin was hypersensitive to the point that the heat of his breath against the lace of her panties felt like a furnace.

He lifted her gently, turning her over and peeling the silk and lace from her body. His eyes moved with the fabric, drinking in the sight of her as he unwrapped her like an eagerly awaited present. She had a brief thought that it seemed a shame that he let the gown just fall to the floor like that after all the effort that had been put into it, but that thought was chased away when he was suddenly there, claiming her mouth in a determined, possessive kiss.

He tasted faintly of the wine and whiskey from the reception. Charlie gasped when he bit her bottom lip gently and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving inside. Her hands moved up as though of their own accord,fingers tangling into the mass of curls that made up his hair, not yet ready to let him go. That must've have been the right thing to do because he made a sort of growling sound that caused her to shiver. When he did break the kiss it was to nip and bite his way along her jaw and down the column of her throat. 

She found it hard to remain still. There was a familiar pressure deep between her thighs, the kind of pressure she'd only explored on her own. She wasn't ignorant about sex, that wasn't a possibility when you're step-mother was a physician. On the contrary, she probably had been given one of the most thorough educations in puberty, sex and reproduction a young girl could never want. She pressed her thighs together, trying to either relieve the pressure or encourage it, she wasn't sure which. Her new husband, it seemed, wasn't fooled if the dark chuckle he let out was any indication. He started moving down her body, nipping and tasting along his way. She couldn't take her eyes from the haphazard curls atop his head and her lower stomach quivered visibly when he very deliberately took the edge of the lace panties between his teeth and began to remove them.Charlie shivered at the sensation of the lace brushing down the skin of her legs, her eyes met his as he dropped them to the floor before using his hands to part her legs. Heated, rough fingers traced up her legs, one moving further than the other until he could tease open the folds of her sex. 

It was so very different from when she touched herself. When it was only the sensitive skin between her legs she was experiencing without the nerves of her fingers to distract her it was somehow...more. And Monroe's...no...Bass' fingers were textured differently from her own. And he apparently knew more about how to touch her than she'd managed to figure out herself. He probed her with one finger, crooking it in a 'come here' type of gesture that hit something inside her and she almost came up off the bed. Bass' other hand urged her back down, his smile wicked. He added a second finger and she felt stretched as he teased and toyed with her, apparently quite happy to see just how close to the edge of insanity he could bring her. Each probing stroke went a bit further in, until he stilled, pausing in mid-stroke.

She took the time to catch her breath and realized her fingers had a death grip on the comforter beneath her. She uncurled her fingers from the fabric, flexing them open. It took her a second to realize that Bass was withdrawing his fingers from her and shifting his body until he lying between her thighs, slipping his hands up and under her hips, tilting her upwards as he lowered his mouth to give her a slow lick.

"Fuck!" She reached up over her head, digging her nails into the edge of the mattress. She'd wanted to both press closer and squirm away. It was too much. Too much sensation. Too much newness. Too much pleasure. But he was merciless, holding her firmly in place with strong hands as he feasted. She was starting to get a very real understanding of how her brother must feel when he was beset by an asthma attack, like she was drowning for lack of air. That tightness coiling inside her grew more and more taught until she'd thought she'd die for want of release. Then Bass moved one of his hands to slip a finger inside her again, his teeth and tongue teasing her clitoris as he crooked his finger upwards again. She shattered, everything going to nonsense and insensibility as the pleasure washed over her.

She didn't notice him moving back upwards to cover her body his his own until he kissed her again. She tasted herself on him. Not unpleasant, just unused to. She returned the kiss, letting go her grip on the bed to thread her fingers in that wonderfully curly hair. She felt his sword calloused hand run along her thigh, coaxing her leg up over his hip and she follows the wordless direction eagerly, near boneless from her orgasm and immeasurably eager to get to what comes next. She knew it was going to be somewhat uncomfortable, but everything Bass had done so far had felt so damn amazing that she had know doubt he'd know what he was doing.

She felt him, thick and hard as he nudged his way into her. The untried muscles inside her stretched with a protest Charlie told herself to just suck up. The only indication of discomfort she allowed herself to show was to bite his bottom lip with perhaps a bit too much sharpness. He didn't seem to mind. Instead he continued with a steady, unbroken stroke until he was fully sheathed. Then he stopped, the hand on her thigh moving to stroke her with lazy explorations as he continued to kiss her. It took her a while to realize that he was giving her time to adjust. That act of consideration was so out of alignment with everything she'd ever heard about President Monroe that the final bit of nervousness and worry about whether she'd made the right decision melted away. 

She wasn't sure how he knew when she was comfortable enough that he could start moving again. There was still soreness, but there were still the last ripples of her orgasm as well. Her body wasn't sure if she should hurt or feel pleasure, so she just gave herself over to the act itself, running her hands from Bass' hair and down his back. Bit by bit the discomfort gave way to something nicer. Bass took whatever cues she was unknowingly giving to know when to shift his position so that he could reach between them to tease her again until she fell over the edge a second time. Only this time he was there to join her, his body shuddering, fingers digging into her hips as though he thought she might somehow manage to vanish out from under him before he'd emptied himself completely. 

He hovered over her a moment longer, breathing ragged. Charlie ran her hands lazily over his arms, the pleasurable afterglow and the two weeks of near constant stress and planning catching up with her. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open and he must have noticed because she felt his breath on her skin as he gave a soft chuff of amusement before placing a brief kiss against her lips and moving off of her. He leveraged himself up to pull the covers of the bed down and then maneuvered her around so that they were both lying lengthwise on the bed, pulling the sheet up over her but leaving the heavier blankets down so that they could both cool off. She managed to open her eyes to look at him in what amounted to little more than a slow blink before sleep claimed her at last.

~***~

It was in his nature to wake early. It had been since Basic. It didn't mean he always got up early or stayed awake, but he usually did. His usual 'alarm clock' since they had reclaimed Philly was the bugle call from the officer academy, rousing the cadets from their bunks. The morning after his wedding was no different.

Bass opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling above him. His mind immediately ran over the requirements of the day as he did every morning. Today's requirements? Not a damn thing. Not really. Miles was in the big chair for the next week. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth at that thought, knowing his life-long friend was going to hate every second of it. Miles hated politicians and boot-lickers. Bass didn't care for them either. Miles just had less patience for them. Scratch that. Miles had NO patience for them. There was a reason why they had called it the Monroe Republic.

He turned his head and looked at the woman in his bed. During the night the most Charlotte had manage to move was to roll from her side onto her stomach. Her face was only a little more than half visible from the pillow and her breathing was slow and deep. Looking at her he'd be surprised if she roused before noon. He could hardly blame her. As the groom, he'd had the easy part; put on his dress uniform and show up on time. 

Okay, his part had been a bit more than that, but most of it was taken care of the morning after she'd accepted his proposal. First he took care of her request and arranged for Lieutenant Neville to be dispatched with it. After that he needed a best man. A no brainer. Miles was the bride's father so the honor fell to Jeremy. Next he needed to secure a location and officiant. St. Joseph's was an easy choice and the priest wasn't about to refuse to marry the president of the republic. The rest of the day had been spent severing ties with Emily, Sarah, Heather and Connie. That had been the hardest part. There'd been tears, anger, recriminations and one attempted assault. That last had come from Emily who, for some unfathomable reason, had apparently believed that he'd one day drop the other three for her. Sure she was beautiful and could very probably suck the dimples out of a golf ball, but those were hardly qualifications for the job of First Lady.

After that his staff had taken care of everything, giving him two weeks until he had to show up at the church in his dress uniform.

Charlotte, on the other hand, had spent two weeks in fittings, trapped in tastings and food decisions, subjected to stylists, manicurists and the rest of the small army that saw to the beautification of Philadelphia's elite women. He'd noted last night that her legs had the same smooth, hairless quality of someone recently waxed, probably done two or three days ago to allow the redness to fully subside, and she'd likely been drug from her bed before dawn yesterday to be scrubbed, rubbed, powdered, curled and all other manner of little tortures women subjected themselves to for 'beauty'. And at the end of it all her take aways had been that the inventor of high heeled shoes deserved to be shot and that a traditional wedding gown was apparently meant to restrain a skittish bride.

Honestly, he was surprised she'd gotten through the past two weeks without at least maiming someone. Clearly she had more self control than her father. Otherwise she would have shot somebody.

He studied her profile, relaxed in sleep. He hadn't expected her to still be a virgin. She was too bold and adventurous, and teens were still teens. He'd gotten laid the first time at fifteen. The thought hadn't troubled him, because anyone before him would have been just as young, over eager and fumbling as he had been back then. Experience and stamina made up for some hick kid's inexpert groping every time. Either Ben had kept her on an insanely short leash or she'd kept it to oral and hand jobs. With a doctor for a step-mother he had no doubt she'd likely gotten a first class 'birds and bees' talk, likely one that included the fact that the only sure fire way to avoid getting pregnant was abstinence. He didn't mind, but he'd outgrown virgins decades ago. They usually required too much time and soothing and had no idea what to do. Thankfully Charlotte had handled her first real sexual encounter like a Matheson; with a lack of fear and a willingness to learn. 

As he was contemplating that she surprised him by waking up. She must have sensed him watching her. Blue-grey eyes blinked open and he met her gaze openly, watching as they came into focus. "Morning."

She turned her head into the pillow to smother a yawn, responding with her own 'morning' that was just this side of intelligible.

The corner of his lips twitched. "Want to get up?"

She looked back at him, blinking. "Do I have to?"

"No. Neither of us is really obligated to do anything this week."

"Then no." She hugged her pillow closer. He smirked. 

"Think you could stay awake long enough for breakfast?" She opened her eyes again, looking uncertain. "You won't have to get up. I promise."

That seemed to be the right answer. "'Kay." Her eyes closed again and he was about to get up to send the guard outside to tell the kitchen to send up breakfast but hesitated when she spoke again. "Wait." She sat up, her brow furrowed as if puzzled. "When did you get out of your pants?"

He laughed. He couldn't help it. Of all things to come to her, that he hadn't expected. He caught her narrow-eyed glare at his laughter and he made himself stop. "You were a bit preoccupied at the time." She exhaled a little huff through her nose and laid back down reclaiming her pillow. She moved a bit and he saw her wince. "Sore?"

"I'm okay."

"I know you're okay. I asked if you're sore."

She seemed to consider the question. "A little."

"You should have told me, Charlotte."

She frowned at him. "You just asked."

He didn't roll his eyes at her. "If I hadn't been taking my time, I could have hurt you."

She frowned a moment longer and then SHE rolled her eyes."By the way, I've never actually done this before. There. Happy?"

He shook his head, a wry smile in his lips, and moved to get up. "You are definitely your father's daughter."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He continued to smile, reaching for his robe when there was a knock at the door. He paused. "What?!" It came out a bit sharp.

A muffled voice came through the door. "Apologies, Sir, but you're presence is requested in your office."

"General Matheson is handling things this week!" Now he was irritated. He thought he heard Charlotte mutter something like 'grumpy much?'.

The voice was hesitant. "I'm sorry, Sir, but it is General Matheson who is asking for you." 

Bass glared at the door. "Fine. Tell him I'm on my way down." He dropped the robe back on the chair and stalked to his closet. He was aware of his new wife watching him. "I shouldn't be long. This is likely just Miles fucking with me." He pulled on a fresh pair of uniform trousers. "I'll kick your father's ass and be back just as they're bringing up breakfast."

She cut off a snort of laughter and snuggled back down into her pillow. "Whatever. Let me know when Granger is done putting you back together after Miles finishes mopping the floor with your face."

He would have glared, but she'd closed her eyes again and looked as though she had every intention of going back to sleep. Instead he just buttoned up his shirt, pulled on some socks and his boots and slipped on his belt. A quick comb through the hair and he was presentable enough for anyone usually in the house. He paused long enough to send the breakfast order to the kitchens before heading down to give his new father-in-law his thoughts on having his first day as a married man interrupted.

"Miles, this had better be good." The dick wasn't even in his office. He was waiting at the base lof the stairs. "You're supposed to be taking care of things this week so I can spend it curled up in bed with Charlotte."

Miles scowled. "What did I tell you about talking about Charlie and sex in the same sentence?"

"I didn't talk about her and sex in the same sentence, I alluded to her and sex in the same sentence. And in case you got so drunk last night you forgot, I married her yesterday. I actually have a right to do that now." He grinned at his best friend, more than happy to yank his chain if Miles was going to attempt to cock block him during what was supposed to be a honeymoon. "So what's come up that you supposedly can't handle?"

"I was happy to handle it. He wouldn't talk to me. Says he'll only speak with President Monroe."

"Then send the asshole packing."

"I would, but it would piss you off when you found out. You'd want to talk to the guy."

"Really? Why?"

"Because he arrived in a car. That runs."

~***~

Someone had come up with her breakfast and an apology from Monroe. Apparently there really had been something important. Or he and Miles were still fighting. She ate the eggs that were scrambled with cheese, the thick slices of ham, toast with apple butter and the blend of cranberry and apple juice in blissful silence. Then she'd lain back down and worked on catching up on some of the sleep she'd been missing.

Monroe had come in sometime between noon and one to 'check in on her', waking her up, and said he'd likely be tied up with Miles and a 'guest' until dinner. He teased her about being lazy and asked if she'd like a bath. She thought that sounded nice and he'd had one sent up for her along with her lunch. When she climbed out of the massive bed she noted that she'd bled a little from last night. At first the thought she was early, but her memory pulled up the talk Maggie had given her out sex and remembered Monroe's light admonishment about not telling him she was a virgin. This was normal, so she shrugged it off and went into the en suite bath to clean up. A couple of maids tidied up,the bed chamber while she was soaking and she could hear them whispering and giggling from the other room. Honestly! It was just a little blood.

Once she was clean she searched the drawers in the two dressers until she found her clothes. They'd been moved here after she'd been drug off the previous morning to get ready. Since she didn't have to do anything today, she slipped on a pair of panties and one of her sleep shirts before crawling back onto the bed and resting back against the pillows to resume reading the book she'd been halfway through before she'd been derailed by planning a wedding.

Monroe showed back up about the time it was starting to get dark enough she was going to have to pause to light a lamp. "Still in bed?"

"I've had a busy couple of weeks. I'm enjoying the break."

He smiled. "Probably need it. You think you can summon enough energy do get dressed and come down to dinner?" He was already at the closet by the end of the question and going through her dresses. "We have received some unexpected assistance with our preparations for the march against Georgia, but I've already abandoned you for two meals and I'd rather not miss a third." He pulled out a blue one with a wide neckline and pleating that was supposed to emphasize the narrowness of her waist. "Where this for me?" She looked at his eyes. It was an actual request, not a command.

Charlie marked her place in the book and set it aside. "I could eat." She pulled a bra out of her dresser and walked over to take the dress from him. She hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling awkward about the idea of dressing or undressing with him in the room. He arched a brow at her in challenge and it got her hackles up. He'd licked, nibbled and kissed just about all of her last night, so what was the big deal? Still, she turned away from him under the guise of needing to use the bed to rest the dress on while she got out of the night shirt and out on the bra, leaving him only her back to look at. She ignored the amused chuckle.

Her hair had dried a bit wild, so she put it up to tame it somewhat. Monroe startled her by coming up behind her, but he only wanted to help her put the diamond necklace he'd given her on. Presentable, she went with him downstairs, telling herself to ignore the curious glances from various soldiers and household staff. 

Eventually they got to the hallway where the smaller of the formal dining rooms was (seriously, who needed two formal dining rooms and a 'family' dining room?) and found Miles waiting there. He started to smile at Charlie, but his gaze dropped slightly and he ended up scowling at Monroe. She was confused at first and glanced at a hall mirror to see if something was wrong. That's when she remembered the 'love bites' marring the skin of her throat. She also caught Monroe's smirk in her father's direction in before he turned to go into the dining room. That's why he asked her to wear this dress, to rub last night's activities in Miles' face!

Charlie turned to follow Monroe, her fist balling up with the middle knuckle extended. She was tensing up to give her oh-so-funny hubby a well deserved knuckle punch between the shoulder blades when he started talking to some who wasn't her or Miles.

"Again I apologize, but as I mentioned earlier, it was my wedding day yesterday and I hadn't intended on spending so much time apart the first day of our marriage." He looked back and held a hand to her in invitation. She let go of her intention to hit him, she could do that later, and moved up next to him. "Mr Flynn, allow me to present my wife, Charlotte Matheson Monroe. Charlotte, this is Randal Flynn, your mother' old boss at the Department of Defense. He has arrived with additional pendants and scientists to increase our power supply and capabilities."

Randall Flynn was a man of such prominent bone structure that he looked cadaverous. He smiled and extended a hand in greeting, which she took in reflex. His smile did not reach his eyes and his touch somehow gave her a sense of something unwholesome or unclean. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Monroe. I apologize if I have disrupted your honeymoon."

Something told Charlie that she wasn't going to like Mr. Flynn very much at all.


	7. Chapter 7

It rained the day Miles left to join his troops in the field. The arrival of Randall Flynn and his additional support has delayed their plans for another three weeks while strategies and camp locations were adjusted to account for the additional hardware.

He told her not to come out in the rain to see him off, saying his good-byes to her in his quarters as he had before leaving to deal with the rebels. Now Charlie stood at the window of the smaller library, watching as the helicopter lifted off in the distance. 

"He knows what he's doing." She turned her head to see Bass in the door way. Now that he had her attention he approached her with smooth steps. "Captain Knowels was Regular Army before the Blackout. A warrant officer, which was a rank between enlisted and commissioned officers. It was the minimum rank requirement to be a helicopter pilot, which was what Knowels signed up to be in the first place. He knows his stuff."

She nodded, worrying the gold band on her fingers. "Actually, I was wondering if it was enough. If...this was enough to keep him safe from his own men."

"It is. There has already been a reversal in morale. It started as soon as news of our engagement started spreading through the ranks and got even more dramatic after the housekeeping staff added to the gossip."

She frowned. "Housekeeping?"

He smiled, his eyes looking through the window onto the rain gray streets of Philadelphia. "It probably took less than two days for the news that the new First Lady came to her marriage bed pure and unsullied had reached every ear in the city."

It took her a moment to remember how the maids had been all giggly as they'd tidied the room the morning after her wedding. Once she did, she rolled her eyes, anxiety momentarily forgotten. "Seriously? That's what they've decided to make a fuss over?"

"Not so much 'a fuss', but it certainly is leading to our union being romanticized to near ridiculous proportions. Of course, I suspect most of it is along the vein of you being the poor, innocent girl caught between the wants and schemes of two ogres."

She considered that for a moment. "Which of you is the bigger ogre?"

"Probably me. Miles would get some latitude for being the father." He reached out and around her shoulders to rub her arm gently a few times. "You've got company, by the way."

She groaned. "Officer's wife?"

"Nope." He coaxed her away from the window. "Much better."

"That nixes politician. Not another girl angling to be my best friend. Sic her on Danny."

"He's still trying to dodge the last three you sent his way. Is he gay?"

"No, just picky. Maggie thought he couldn't get past me as an example of what girls our age should be like. He can't stand the ones with fluff for brains."

"Oh that's easy, then. I'll just have him stand in for me at the graduation dinner at the Academy. There are always several pretty girls freshly commissioned. At least one or two should be as tough as you."

"Trying to set my baby brother up with a Militia girl?"

"I'm straight, but even I have to admit Danny's good looking. It's a waste of a perfectly good face. And he needs to get his feet wet sometime."

"Is that why you offered to send him a hooker the first time you met him?"

"He told you about that?"

"I was jealous. You didn't offer to send me anyone to play with."

"You wouldn't have known what to do with him if I had, even if the poor fool had managed to get as far as your room without Miles cutting him in half."

"Ha-ha." She let him lead her from the library into his office. A familiar voice pulled her up short.

"Charlie?"

She pulled away from her husband, shooting across the office at a run and throwing her arms around the man in a fierce hug."Aaron!" He smelled of sweat, days on the road and whiskey. "I was so worried you didn't make it out of Philly alive. What are you doing back here?"

Bass had come to a stop behind them, watching the reunion. "I had Lieutenant Neville deliver a job offer along with his pardon."

"A job offer?" She pulled back and looked between the two men in confusion.

"Yeah, he didn't give any details other than access to Liberty Hall so I could see you and Danny came with it."

"The Officers Academy. I'm guessing that a man who attained the level of success you had pre-Blackout and who managed to teach Charlotte how to count cards well enough she can do it while inebriated likely possesses a strong grounding in mathematics."

"It's one of my doctorates. I would have gone for Physics as well, but opted to enter the job market rather than complete my thesis work there."

"Even better. My current head of that department, though qualified, hates the job. He's only remained because I promised him I would try to find someone who could take it off his hands. As it turns out, really good mathematicians aren't easy to find. You were rare even before the power went out."

Aaron studied him from behind his glasses. "You want me to take over the Math department at you academy?"

"And Physics. They're together. The job comes not only with the freedom to see Charlotte and her brother, but a residence and a salary. But you don't have to make up your mind right now. You've had a long trip and I'm certain you want to rest as well as catch up with them. They're in this city with few people they know well. I know they've missed you, and I know you're important to them."

Aaron was going to say something more, but that was when Jason arrived with Danny in tow. He, too, tackled the corpulent man upon sight, happy to see their family friend again.

~***~

"Wait, so you're saying that Ben and Rachel had something to do with the Blackout itself." Aaron had been given a room until he decided if he wanted to accept Monroe's job offer and his personal residence could be made ready. 

"Come on, Aaron. Why else would Dad have had that pendant? And how else would Mom have known how to build something to increase the range?"

Aaron was freshly washed and had some clean clothes that had been provided to him. Charlie had arranged for them to have the smaller dining room to themselves for lunch, afforded the luxury of no body guards since they'd remained inside Liberty Hall. "Yeah, that had crossed my mind as well, the part about Ben. I had no idea Rachel was behind those helicopters." He looked from Charlie to Danny and back. "Still calling Ben 'dad', huh? So Miles isn't your father?"

"No, he is. He also says he understands that Ben was my dad. I still call him 'Miles'."

Aaron nodded at her left hand and the gold band there. "And that's real, too. Neville Junior said those pardons for Nora and me were your wedding present."

She blushed. "I told Monroe that if I was going to marry him, I wanted the people who came with me to find Danny to be forgiven for all the things we did to get here. He agreed."

"Well,thank you for that." He chewed another bite of chicken and swallowed."So why did you do it? Marry Monroe, I mean?"

"The soldiers didn't trust Miles anymore," Danny volunteered before she could answer, "and there were some assassination attempts. We didn't know until one of them decided to try killing Charlie instead. Monroe thought marrying Charlie would calm them down."

Aaron gave her a questioning look. She shrugged. "He calls it a show of faith. Says it's easier to trust Miles if he gives his only daughter over to be the First Lady. It seems to be working."

"And what do you have to do?"

She sat back in her chair with a sigh. "Still trying to figure that out. So far I mostly find myself training with different specialists. Monroe says he wants me able to hold my own in a fight if my guard gets taken out. There are a lot of invitations to social gatherings, more than I would have thought there were people in Philly. I have a 'secretary', if you can believe it. He organizes and handles all of them, and coordinates with Monroe's to avoid conflicts. I've accepted a few but the people drive me batty. Monroe says he accepts less than a quarter of his and the rest his guy sends out the appropriate and polite responses to, so I'll probably end up doing that." She shrugged. "Otherwise he tells me to be the kind of First Lady I want to be, but I haven't got a clue as to who that is."

Aaron studied her, his expression worried. "Charlie, has he...hurt you?"

"No, he hasn't. He was very up front that this would be a 'real' marriage, and he's expecting children from it, but he's treated me well. Well, unless you count the fact that our mother is pretty much still a prisoner but apparently he's lost count of how many times she's tried to kill him so I suppose that's not hard to understand."

"Mom built a bomb." Danny refilled his water glass. "She's tried stabbing him a few times, too. No telling what else. She's a little scary. When they found out about the bomb they were going to replace her with some guy she used to work with on whatever it was that caused the Blackout and were going to execute us, but then she stabbed the guy in the heart with a screwdriver so they'd still need her."

Aaron put down his knife and fork, holding his hands out to ask then to stop. "Do you two hear yourselves? Marriage for political reasons? To the same man who was going to kill Danny? Rachel killing someone she knew and might have considered a friend with a screwdriver? This is insanity!"

The siblings met one another's eyes across the table. "It is, Aaron." Danny gave heir friend and teacher a smile. "Unfortunately there's little either of us can do about it."

"Well, I might have a few options by virtue of station. I've been putting my mind to it since that Flynn guy showed up."

Aaron gave her a quizzical look. "Who's that?"

"Apparently Mom and Dad's old boss with the Department of Defense. He showed up the day after my wedding with more pendants and has been helping Monroe and Miles increase their power base."

"Mom hates him," added Dany. "No, scratch that, she's afraid of him. Refuses to even be in the same room with him and is constantly telling me and Charlie to avoid him at all costs."

"So...bad guy. What's your plan?"

Charlie chewed her bottom lip lightly before answering. "You remember all the stuff you used to tell us about how things were before the Blackout?"

~***~

Her toes were finally willing to uncurl about the same time Bass caught his breath enough to pull out of her and roll onto his back beside her. She'd come to the conclusion that he'd kept four mistresses not for variety but because he had the sex drive of someone more Danny's age than his own. Now it was apparently her job to pick up the slack. Most nights if he wasn't to tired from working. Most mornings if he didn't have any early obligations. Pretty much anytime he learned she'd finished a training session and took a nap because sometime in his life he'd obviously been taught that n-a-p spells sex. Oh, and a few times she'd either been walking past his office or had come in to avail herself of his smaller, private library and he'd ordered everyone else to clear the room. She hoped housekeeping would keep their mouths shut about what happened on that desk.

He tugged her to him, snuggling her up to his side, her right arm across his chest. She watched him by the firelight from the hearth as he lifted her wrist to hi mouth and placed a lingering kiss to the brand there. "You like that, don't you? Seeing your mark there."

"I do." He was still looking at the brand and running his thumb over it. "At first I thought I would have trouble taking Miles' daughter to bed, but any doubt went away that night you agreed, as soon as I touched you here for the first time. It felt like...someone had already marked you for me before I ever set eyes on you. It's not the brand itself, every female member of the Militia has the same one and they don't affect me that way. Just you. Which no doubt says something rather unsavory about my character."

A smirk twitched the corner of her mouth. "No doubt. And you certainly got over any squeamishness you had about who my father is."

He released her wrist and ran his hand further up her arm, a satisfied smile on his face. "Yes I did. The fact that you're gorgeous doesn't hurt, either." He explored her arm, examining the muscles there. "I think I'll arrange for someone else to babysit Mr. Flynn for a day or two. I'd like to have some time to ourselves. Carter says you're excelling in your sword work and Hughes is strutting around like a proud father saying I'm in for a surprise the next time I spar with you."

"He's been teaching me how to fight after I'm knocked down. Gave me a whole lecture about how women are built to be stronger from the waist down and how my legs are both longer and stronger than a man's arms." 

Bass seemed to consider this. "He's got a solid point. Now I'm really curious. If he's got a way to consistently teach a woman how to use that to her advantage, youth father and I will want to give him access to all the female soldiers. Wish he'd said something sooner."

"Why is that?"

He grimaced. "Legally speaking, rape and sexual assault are prohibited in the Militia. It's a capital offense. However, the male to female ratio is uneven. A female soldier who is victimized rarely speaks out because she's greatly outnumbered. That's why most women in the Militia are kept in administrative positions, but there are always the ones like you who are too good in a fight to be wasted behind a desk. They feel like they're on their own, so in exchange we turn a blind eye if they use lethal force to take care of their attackers themselves." He looked at the ceiling. "If Hughes can add to their training in a way that gives them an edge using what nature graced them with in the first place," a slow grin spread over his face, "I've got no problems with that. None a at all."

She studied his face, watching him. "What?"

"You don't hold anything back when I ask you something. You're...open."

"I told you up front that I expected both of us to be fully committed to this marriage. I determined within hours of figuring out it was the best way to settle the problems with the men that the best way to make this work was to give you something that the majority of the people in your life have denied you; honesty. I'm not going to continue their practice of keeping you in the dark and trying to keep you ignorant because I think it's in your best interest. A First Lady is supposed to be the partner and helpmate to her spouse. That means you need to know what's going on as much as I do."

"Huh." She didn't want to say it out loud, but that made her feel...pleased. "I've been thinking."

"About?"

"The power." She collected her thoughts. "You're concentrating all of it on weapons and communications to the field."

"Yes, it's what gives up our best advantage. It's why we'll take Georgia."

She nodded. "Miles explained why Georgia is important. It can mean an end to starvation in the current Republic, and we'd likely get the European trade routes."

"That's right."

"But isn't Georgia rather big? Don't they have a greater population?"

He nodded. "It won't be easy, true. Even with power. Foster is stubborn, smart and her people have faith in her. Where are you going with this?"

"Aaron was our teacher. I learned a lot from Maggie, too, about how things used to be before the Blackout. Don't you lose a lot of men to infections set up in battle wounds or after field surgery? Infections that didn't used to be a problem?"

"Yes. There are no more anti-biotics, not the kind there used to be." He got it, his eyes rolling slightly at his own slowness as he smiled. "I see where you're going with this. You think we should set up a medical lab."

She sat up, shifting her weight so she had a more solid seat. "Maggie used to get frustrated about the things she could no longer fix because she didn't have the right meds, or because there were no more vaccines. The people my age were the tail end of those who got vaccinated against most diseases, and even I had to be isolated when measles popped up in our village because Dad couldn't remember if I'd gotten the last booster. Why stop at antibiotics? Why not bring the vaccines back, too?"

"That would probably take more time. I'm not a doctor, but I believe you have to have samples of the actual illness in order to create a vaccine." He ran a hand along her side. "How were you planning to go about it?"

"Flynn has that list of scientists he says he knows are still alive within the Republic. Some of them have got to be from the medical profession. Didn't they used to make diseases to use as weapons?"

"They did. It's likely that some of them are."

"I don't trust Flynn."

"I don't either. That's why we're keeping a close eye on him."

"Mom doesn't trust him either. No, listen to me," she pleaded when he rolled his eyes. "She hates you, you hate her. Neither of you would hesitate to kill the other or feel guilty over doing it. Still, she regularly tells you to go to hell, and worse, even knowing what you're capable of. She hates you. She's afraid of Randall Flynn. Viscerally so. That should tell you all we need to know about him. He can't be trusted."

Bass considered this, then nodded for her to continue.

"I was young when the Blackout happened. I don't remember when Aaron joined us, but I remember him being there when Mom got...sick. That's all they ever told us, just that she was sick. It happened a couple of times. Only I don't think she was sick, not like with a fever. I think she tried to kill herself."

"And leave you and Danny alone?"

"How clearly would you be thinking if you realized something you made just ended the world? Aaron says there used to be over seven billion people in the world, three hundred million in the US alone. He estimates we've likely lost somewhere between eighty to ninety percent of that. How well would you handle knowing you may be responsible for killing that many people?"

He didn't respond. She suspected he was trying to put it into terms he could understand. She wasn't sure she could wrap her mind fully around a number like seven billion. Where had they fit?

"Put Mom in charge of the lab. If I'm right and she's eaten up with guilt over the Blackout, she might welcome a chance to help somebody. We tell Flynn it's for the Militia, to improve the rate of attrition."

Bass arched a brow. "When in actuality you want to get production up high enough to provide for everyone. Your mother is a cold bitch, but given the opportunity to provide medicines to innocent citizens and children, she'll agree. Especially if she can do it in spite of Flynn." He nodded in approval. "So there she is."

Charlie frowned. "There who is?"

"The First Lady Charlotte wants to be. I like her." He gave her arm a tug, pulling her down and across his chest. "I like her a lot."


	8. Chapter 8

Miles had been in the field for six weeks before Bass decided to pay a personal visit to the front. They'd made a good deal of headway, pushing into Georgian territory as they steadily made their way towards Atlanta. He had a pretty good idea why his friend and boss was dropping in, but he wasn't going to budge on this.

He didn't go out to meet the helicopter but remained in his command tent instead, his eyes going over the field reports and updating his map table accordingly. He could feel Alec giving him curious, if somewhat nervous, looks from the other side. The renewed acquaintance between them was still shaky, but it was growing stronger. He was just grateful the kid had survived Texas so he'd have a chance to try and make up for failing him so miserably before.

The tent flaps were pulled apart and Bass walked in. "Miles. Alec, it's good to see you again." 

"Likewise, Sir."

Miles finally looked up, waiting for Bass to start up. Instead the President set a bottle of his favorite whiskey on the map table. Miles looked at it and back to Bass, and shrugged. "That's it?"

"I'd have brought a case but you're better at your job at least semi sober."

"I was waiting for you to tear into me about derailing Alec's little suicide mission."

Bass waved that off as he sat down in a nearby chair. "Nah. I've already been read the riot act over that idea. I shouldn't have considered it. Atlanta is more valuable in tact."

That made Miles blink. "Who convinced you?"

Bass gave him a look as though questioning his intelligence. "My wife. You remember her, right? Blonde hair, blue eyes, can shoot a fly on a wall twenty yards away with her crossbow?" He stretched his legs out. "That nuke idea clashed with her own plans, which she was quick to inform me after Pittman explained to her what a nuke was."

"Her plans?" He set the field reports down. "What plans does Charlie... Pittman? Aaron Pittman?"

"Alec, could you get the glasses and ice? The General is being a terrible host. Yes, that Pittman. Charlotte's part of the engagement negotiation was to ask for full pardons for him and Nora. I added that Nora was free to stay in the Republic if she kept her nose clean from now on and hired Aaron to take over the math and physics department at the Academy. Thank you, Alec. You forgot one for yourself."

Miles stared at Bass as though the other man had grown two extra heads. "Who was in charge of it before?"

"It was still Michaelson. I never found someone better qualified until now. You should have seen it. I walked in with Pittman and that bastard goes completely fanboy on us. All those years bitching about how he hated the job and he ended up staying on as a teacher just for the privilege to work with Aaron. Apparently he was some geek rock star before the Blackout."

"Huh." Miles watch Bass pour three glasses of whiskey and accepted one of them. "That still doesn't tell me what plans of Charlie's you almost wrecked."

"I come bearing gifts. Your daughter had the utterly brilliant idea of using a couple of the amplifiers to rev up a medical lab. Rachel is overseeing it with Danny nearby to keep her focused. They're cranking out antibiotics and some non-opium based pain meds. Nothing like ibuprofen, yet, but things good enough to take the edge off the more minor discomforts without getting the men stoned. My guys are delivering it to your medics now and other shipments are being carried out to your other camp locations."

Miles was, well, impressed. "And Atlanta?"

Bass grimaced. "I made the mistake of listening to Flynn's idea about the nuke and forgot about the CDC building in Atlanta. By all accounts the place went on total lockdown when the power went out, some of the people died in there because they couldn't get out. Charlie's plans include reintroducing vaccines and the doctors need samples of the targeted illnesses for that. Rachel says the containment protocols on the building should be good enough there's a strong chance there are still useable samples. Once you take the city and secure Foster's surrender we should be able to access the building."

"Wow." Miles hadn't even taken a sip yet. "My kid thought of that?"

"Yeah. I don't know if it's from your tactical brilliance or her mother's brains, but she's sharp. Marrying her is one of my better ideas." He lifted the glass to his lips with a smirk. "And she makes the nights more entertaining."

"Damn it, Bass!"

He grinned and looked over at the other man. "The general likes to try and convince himself that his daughter and I have a chaste marriage where I never touch her other than polite kisses for the benefit of the public. Like any man with working plumbing would be able to keep his hands to himself. Have you seen my wife?"

Alec was smiling, now, enjoying the banter between the two men now that he was fairly certain he wasn't going to be shot for not carrying out the President's orders. "No, Sir."

"Well, when you do, remember she's a married woman and keep your hands to yourself. No one touches her but me."

"Yes, Sir. I'll be certain to remember that."

Miles' glared clearly said that he was not amused. Bass beamed at him. Miles downed his drink in one go. "So, that was Flynn's idea. I don't like that guy."

"To be truthful, neither do I. Neither does Charlotte. Or Danny. You already know Rachel hates him."

"She said Flynn makes you look like the poster child for sanity." Miles refilled his glass. "What does he think of Charlie's little science project?"

"He sees the wisdom of improving our rate of attrition thru providing better care to the soldiers. The more men we keep alive and well, the more men we have to help settle down Georgia when you finally get Foster to surrender." He grinned. "We could always do the political marriage thing again. You're single. She's single."

"I will shoot you."

Bass snorted into his whiskey. "No you won't."

"I'm thinking about it. At least I wouldn't have to listen to you talk about screwing my daughter." Alec almost choked on his whiskey. "Shut up, Kid."

"Miles, we've been married for over two months now. It's time to let it go, Brother. It's not like she's sixteen. She's in her twenties! A lot of girls these days are marrying way younger than that just to stay alive. And besides, I'm pretty sure she could kick my ass if I actually pissed her off. Hughes has been teaching her some amazing shit. When you get back to Philly I want you to get with him to come up with a new training program for the female recruits."

"You're still having her trained?" 

"Of course I am. I like the idea of her being able to fight her way out of a corner if need be. Besides, it gives her something to do and a legitimate reason to avoid unwanted social invites. Less chance of her losing her temper and killing someone this way."

Alec's brow rose. "The First Lady sounds...interesting."

"She's like the General, only much better looking. And I think she may be smarter."

"She's not smarter. She's a dumb kid. She was stupid enough to marry you, after all." Miles saw the flash of Alec's teeth before the younger man hid his smile behind his glass again. "How smart can she'd be if she does something like that?"

"I'll have you know I am a terrific husband. There is an army of women who'd love to be in her shoes."

"And so humble."

"Always. So, how much longer do you plan you take before you've captured Georgia? Or should I go ahead and start drawing up that marriage alliance proposal?"

Miles sneered at him. "You're a dick." He poured another glass and started going over their strategies, updating Bass on the changes that were necessary once a conflict began. Best laid plans of mice and men and all that.

~***~

He'd stayed in the field for three weeks, going over battle plans with Miles and his senior officers. It also allowed him to visit the various camps, talking to the men and seeing first hand what was needed and where. Most importantly he made certain to check with the medics and the field hospitals. The antibiotics and medicines were welcomed with relief that touched the southern border of reverence. After so many years of knowing a patient's chances were less than fifty to zero if an infection was able to take root, the new medicines were like a gift from on high. Bass made certain that Charlotte's name was attached to them. He wanted the men to know that their First Lady had their welfare on her mind. It would further strengthen their confidence in Miles. After all, surely the care she had for them was a reflection of her father's.

At one time he would have gladly remained in the field and worked along side Miles. Now, however, he wanted to be back in Philly. He looked down at his city as the descended, his eyes fastening on Liberty Hall. He'd missed his home. He'd missed Charlotte. True to his vows he had been faithful to her while away, though he could have found relief easily with any number of female soldiers or camp followers. He'd missed the warmth of her by his side, more than he had expected he would.

They set down at the old power plant that, ironically, was not their source of power. He still made the trip from there to the city by horse, not wishing to waste fuel now that they had no certain and dependable way to produce more. Sure he had control of what was once the strategic oil reserves, but contrary to what many had believed before the Blackout, a barrel of oil did not equal a barrel of gasoline. Fuel was only one of several products refined from crude. The release of a portion of the reserves during high fuel prices was never more than a political stunt meant to make the President look good and give the media something to either praise or disdain depending on what party was in office at the time. And even if they did get a refinery up and running, where would they get more crude once the reserve was used up? Unless they took Georgia, that is, and could get the offshore rigs running again.

Then they'd likely need to deal with Texas, Mexico and whomever was running Cuba these days.

He shook those thoughts off as he reigned his horse to a stop in front of Liberty Hall, passing the reigns off to a stable hand. Unless it was of tantamount importance, he planned to spend the rest of today with his wife. It was why he'd made his pilot get them up in the air early enough they'd be home well before lunch. He stripped off his gloves and coat as he walked, passing them off to Justin, his secretary, as he made his way to the stairs.

"Mr. President!" Bass stopped, masking his irritation with his politician smile before turning around.

"Mr. Flynn. I trust my people have been accommodating."

Flynn gave one of his reptilian smiles. "Very much so. I'm curious as to how your time in the field went. I trust General Matheson is proving to be as effective as ever."

"He always is. Miles has a head for war."

"Of course. It's just that, with the advantage you have, I had expected...quicker results."

Bass pushed down the big of anger that rose up wanting to defend Miles. "We want the real estate, Mr. Flynn, and the people to work it. It's preferable to take as much of the region in tact as possible. Our 'advantage' is allowing us to do so in spite of Foster's men out numbering us on the ground by more than two to one. She will fold."

"If you were to reconsider using the bomb..."

What was this guy's hard on over using nukes? "We've discussed this. I want Atlanta to be taken, not destroyed. It is a major economic center and losing it would lessen the overall value of the territory itself. There's also the psychological impact it will have when the Georgians see our flag on the walls. We will not be using nukes."

"Of course." Flynn's smile did not reach his eyes. It never did. "You do raise a valid point. I suppose I'm just a little...anxious. I have been waiting a long time golf this."

"What exactly have you been waiting for, Mr. Flynn?"

The other man tilted his head slightly. "To see the continent made whole again, of course. We are weakened when we are fractured. There was no electricity the first time people came here to dominate. Europe already has reached our coast in Georgia. How long before someone has the idea to try and conquer North America again? It's better if we get our house in order before that happens, so that they do not succeed."

That first sentence was true. Bass suspected that the rest was frosted in a thick layer of bullshit. "Have patience, Mr. Flynn. Miles will deliver Georgia."

He didn't excuse himself before resuming his path upstairs. Justin had already told him that Charlotte was still in their quarters. Apparently she'd been sleeping in most of the past week or so. He'd have to rib her about getting lazy and see if he could get a rise out of her. She was so much fun when he pulled her pigtails.

He went inside, but she wasn't in bed. She had been, the sheets and blankets were still in a disarray, but no Charlotte. Before he could call out he heard the sound of someone retching in the attached bathroom. 

"Charlotte?" Concerned, he made his way quickly to the open door and just barely managed to fall back out of sight to avoid getting struck by what he was pretty sure was her hair brush.

"Go away!"

He frowned. He could hear her breathing in the sporadic, gulping way one did when they were fighting back nausea. "Charlotte, how long has this been going on? Has Granger been here?"

He heard her cut off a half-hearted laugh. "I fucking hate you right now." That was followed by a sniff, then another bought of retching.

Bass blinked, but his confusion abated quickly. His brain did the math easily enough. Shelly had handled things well early on. Apparently Charlotte was having a rougher time of it. He removed his sidearm and swords, setting them atop the nearby writing desk before daring to try and enter the bath again.

She sat on the floor by the toilet. Though they hadn't quite worked out an efficient way to get hot water to a bath without lugging it up by bucket, gravity fed toilets using rooftop cisterns had been easy. He pulled the chain for the reservoir to get the stink of vomit away from her before lowering himself down to sit beside her.

"Have you seen Granger?"

She shot him a glare that, by all rights, should have killed him on the spot. "No, a Bass, it never once occurred to me to consult the doctor when I started puking my guts out every morning."

Clearly this was one of those times that nothing he said or did would be right. "Justin said you were sleeping in. You haven't told anyone?"

"It wasn't any of their damn business!" She screwed her eyes shut, her face blanching a bit as she pressed a hand to her stomach, nausea threatening again. It passed after a long moment. "I told Danny. Mom knows. So does Aaron."

Two actual blood relatives and one who might as well be. "What did Granger say?"

"That this is _normal_ ," she responded, shooting him another death glare. "That I'm healthy and this should taper off in another couple of weeks or so."

He thought back to the midwife who had helped with Shelly. Most times this started up sometime between weeks six to nine and, for most, was gone between weeks twelve to fourteen. That meant Charlotte had likely conceived sometime during the first month of their marriage. If he'd known he wouldn't have spent so long in the field. Hell, if he'd known he would have sent someone else out to Miles. Or at least told Miles. 

She retched again, her stomach now giving up nothing other than neon yellow bile. She had nothing in her any longer. Not even water. "I'll be right back." He got up and went to the guard in the hall, sending him down to the kitchens for some tea and milk toast. The bland food would be easy on her abused stomach as well as more nutritious than just dry toast. When he rejoined her he took a cloth and wetted it down from the wash basin, ringing out the damp cloth before using it to wipe her forehead and neck. 

"I'm gonna have Mom make me poison. Something that will make you throw up for four or five hours before it finally kills you. That way you'll now how this feels."

He could be entirely certain she didn't mean it. "I probably deserve it." She glared at him.

"So help me, Bass, if you laugh at me I really will kill you."

"I wouldn't dare laugh. I'm sorry I left you here by yourself. I should have been here when all this started." He pulled the chain again. "Do you feel up to getting into something dry?" The shirt she was wearing, he didn't miss the fact that it was one his, was damp with sweat. She nodded and he left her with a glass of water while he pulled a fresh pair of panties from her dresser and a clean shirt from his closet. When he returned to the bath she had already stripped and was blotting herself with the damp cloth. He waited patiently until she fished before handing over the underwear. Once she had those on he held the shirt for her as she slid it on and fastened the buttons. He suspected she wasn't in the mood for sex, though he had every intention of staying with her for he day.

The simple meal arrived as he was tossing her sweat soaked garments into the hamper in the bath. Bass answered the door and took the tray, allowing Charlotte her modesty as she climbed into the oversized bed. She waited until he closed the door before speaking. "I don't think I'm ready for this."

And there it was; the real reason for her ire. "Why would you think that?" He unfolded the short legs of the tray and placed it over he lap.

"What if I screw it up?"

"I doubt that's possible."

"Really?" Her expression was one of skepticism. "It's not like Mom and Miles are stellar examples of parenting."

"True," he agreed, because they really weren't, "but for all that he did blackmail Miles into keeping his distance, Ben was. And from what you've said about Maggie, she was an excellent mother. And let's not forget that you do have experience with Danny."

She examined the food in front of her curiously. "Danny doesn't count. Mom was still with us for the first of it, for the hard stuff. All I had to do was make sure he kept breathing. What is this?"

"Milk toast. Cookie makes his by making sugar toast with extra thick bread slices and then adds the warm milk sauce." Bass offered her a smile. "He mixes maple syrup in. It's good on a stomach that's just been put through the ringer like yours." She gave him a questioning look. "And good for those mornings when you've got a killer hangover."

That got a smile out of her. "Sugar toast?"

"It would be cinnamon and sugar toast, but while we can trade for sugar with Texas, cinnamon was always imported from overseas. Without trade routes to the Asian markets it's out of our reach. Pity. I liked cinnamon. I didn't realize how much until I couldn't get it anymore." 

He seat on the bed, taking care not to jostle her as she took an experimental bite from the bowl. She must have liked the taste, because she took another before pausing to see if it would stay down. When it did she began to eat with a little more confidence. He remained by her side until she was finished and then returned the tray to the guard outside. When he turned around she was already laying down, stretched out atop the covers. She watched him as he stripped down to his undershirt and boxers before climbing up to join her.

She let him pull her into his arms, sinking into him with an almost grateful air. A stab of guilt shot through him. He should have been here. She shouldn't have had to go through any of this alone. He was pretty sure he could trust Aaron to be kind, and he knew Danny would give her all the love and support she needed. What troubled him was what Rachel might have said or done. Had his nemesis kept a civil tongue in her head or had she belittled and scolded her daughter for carrying his child? He didn't know how to ask.

Bass kissed her forehead, stroking her back in gentle movements until she dozed off in his arms. He lay there, enjoying the feel of her familiar presence before he allowed himself to join her.

~***~

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of, Kelly. Your men put up one hell of a fight."

Kelly Foster gritted her teeth as she looked at the man behind the desk. Behind _her_ desk. General Miles Matheson wasn't gloating, that much she could commend him for, but he was still taking her country from her.

"Thank you for agreeing to a cessation of hostilities before killing them all."

"Contrary to popular belief, I get no pleasure in senseless killing. They're good men, a lot of them likely with families to go home to. I can respect that." He watched her as she signed the papers formalizing her surrender. "Besides, Georgia is a big piece of land. We need the bodies."

There were multiple copies of the documents. One copy for Monroe, one for the capital building here in Atlanta, copies for each of the European nations she had established trade routes with, one for Texas, one for Mexico and one for California. There was no one central government in the a Plains or Wastelands to advise of the power change.

"I had thought you'd shaken off Monroe's hold. I guess that couldn't last." She signed the last copy and set her pen down.

One of Miles' officers came in, waiting until acknowledged to speak. "Mrs. Matheson is here. She brought along a few of of her best guys. They headed for the CDC building straight away."

A chill went down Kelly's spine. The CDC safeguards had locked the place down tight when the Blackout hit. Hermetically sealed and with walls of shatter and bulletproof glass no one had been able to get through, either from the outside or in. She'd been there once, looking at the mummified remains of former scientists and researchers where they'd eventually died once the clean water and food had run out. "Why do you want in there?"

Miles nodded in answer to the officer as he secured the copies meant to leave the city and passed them off to a courier. "Our First Lady wants to reintroduce vaccinations. Try to consign all those illnesses that were hardly a threat before the Blackout back to the history books. To do that, we need samples of what we're vaccinating against." He caught her suspicious gaze. "Don't worry, Kelly. She put her mother in charge things. Rachel will keep the potential bio weapons locked up tight and out if the wrong hands."

He came around the desk. She squared her shoulders, refusing to be cowed by his greater height or the air of menace he always projected. "Baker will be staying here to settle things down. Get people used to the new power structure."

"That's the job." The man sounded less than pleased.

"Suck it up, Cupcake."

"Yes, Sir."

Miles stood in front of her now, watching her. "Be thankful it went down this way, Kelly. One of Monroe's ideas was an alliance through marriage. Pointed out the we're both unattached at the moment. I mean, really, would you want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

He was telling the truth. She could see it there in his eyes. "There are always small mercies. He must be happy in his new role as a married man. Happy newly weds always want to try to convince those around them they should give the old ball and chain a try."

"Yeah, I try not to think about how happy he is. It gives me the urge to cut his hands off so he has to keep them to himself." He swept a hand towards the double doors behind her. "Our carriage awaits."

Kelly Foster refused to give a last look about what used to be her office. Part of her was grateful that Miles was being so rational about this. Clearly the years spent away from Monroe had done him some good. Hopefully now she only had one mad man to endure, and maybe even someone who could keep her fate at fate hands of the hands of the Monroe Republic from being completely horrible. But her people would be safe. Miles seemed genuine in his drive to keep most of Georgia in tact and healthy. If her freedom was the price demanded for that, then she would pay it and gladly.


	9. Chapter 9

Bass had paired Danny with a man he and Miles called "Kip". They both described him as the 'Mozart of Logistics', which apparently made him imminently qualified to teach her brother how to organize and run the medical lab, even if he wasn't a scientist. It was working. Rachel assembled the team she needed using the information Flynn had on the doctors, scientists and researchers he knew to still be in the Monroe Republic, but Danny was becoming a master at making sure they got what they needed to do the work and arranging for the fished medicines to be sent out to where they were needed.

And once Danny added what Kip was teaching him to their own life-honed skills of being sneaky, keeping Randall Flynn in the dark about just how much was being produced and about the extra shipments going out to civilian locations instead of military ones was almost laughably easy.

"Careful. Don't get cocky. It's like riding a horse; the moment you think you've got it figured out and let your guard down is when the beast will throw you."

Charlie looked up from the folder of reports in front of her and propped her chin on the heel of her hand to look at Bass. "You think he might be on to us?"

"I think that he supplied the list of scientists. How can we know for certain that they're trustworthy? Odds are that at least some of them are likely to snitch. That's why Kip has helped Danny set up all those different layers of security. Keeping the different areas in the dark about who is doing what. That way there's less chance that any one person will notice the discrepancy between production and distribution."

She considered that, then nodded. "Got it."

He dropped the last of the reports he had been reviewing back onto his desk and got up. She'd taken to sometimes working at the little table off to the side in his office whenever she wanted to escape prying eyes. Now that Danny had a 'real job' they couldn't spend as much time together, which left people with the perception that she had free time on her hands and therefore was available to be visited or otherwise pestered. Few people came into Bass' office, however, and he was content to share his space with her. He'd offered to get her a desk of her own, or have the small library attached to his office renovated into an office for her, but so far she'd declined. 

"What are you going over, now?"

"I'm getting responses back from the doctors. From up here and in Georgia."

Bass' brow raised. "Responses to what?"

"What their more pressing health concerns are. Mom has an apparent personal vendetta against Polio. I think she's offended that it's re-emerging after they'd thought it was eradicated before the Blackout. The doctors in the southern portions of Georgia note that Malaria is becoming a major concern again. Both illnesses are potentially lethal and can have lifelong relapses if survived.

"Other than that, they almost all agree that they'd like to see the vaccine for measles, mumps and rubella brought back. I get the impression it was delivered together?"

He nodded. "The MMR vaccine. Standard. All kids were supposed to get it unless their families had religious convictions against vaccinations. They have a point. Some childhood illnesses were usually survivable when you were little but got more dangerous if you caught them when you were older. Hell, a boy catches mumps after he hits puberty and it could end up rendering him sterile. An adult catching chicken pox is far more likely to develop life threatening complications than a five-year-old." He put his papers away, nodding in thought. "You're idea is a sound one, Charlotte. I'm ashamed I didn't think of it on my own, but I was too focused in the military applications to see the other potential routes."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a soldier."

"No, and you were raised by people with a far different set of priorities. It makes a difference." He came up behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders, applying a gentle pressure with his fingers with his thumbs running along the tensions lines she hadn't realized had tightened up where he neck met eher shoulders. She let out a grateful sound and let her head fall forward. "Every day I become more and more convinced that marrying you is the smartest thing I've ever done."

She made a puffing noise. "I could have told you that. Left to your own devices you and Miles are idiots. You'd use a club to fix a broken window."

"I think I may be offended by that statement."

"But can you deny it?"

"Probably not." He dug his fingers into the knots in the shoulders again and she thought she'd melt. 

"Damn it, Bass!" Miles had wandered into the office, on of the few people who dared to do so. "Can you go an hour without pawing my daughter?"

"This isn't 'pawing'. I can demonstrate pawing if you'd like me to." Charlie moved her arm, jabbing the sharp point of her elbow into her husband's side and was rewarded with a soft, muffled grunt.

Miles' smiled colored his words. "That's my girl." He came over to the table as Bass backed away, rubbing at his newly bruised flank. Her father leaned down to kiss her temple. "How are you feeling?"

"I've managed not to puke my guts out for a whole week. Bass has been given a stay of execution for now."

"Are you sure you want to do that? I can shoot him for you if you want."

"She's doing a fine job doing me in on her own. Damn but you hit hard."

"I've had practice. There are always bullies to fight."

Bass gave her a smirk before looking at Miles. "Jeremy's report?"

"Some push back from Georgian troops who've yet to stand down. About as much as we expected. Charlie's meds, however, have the civilian population nice and confused. We're making sure to keep Charlie's name attached to the positive things. Like we thought, it's more believable that your pretty little child bride has you besotted and brainless to the point she can get more humanitarian efforts slipped in than such things are coming from the two of us. Half the population imagines she's outsmarted and manipulated you to use the Militia as a positive thing while the other half thinks you're a dirty old man who keeps her tied to your bed with silk ropes."

A far off look came into Bass' eyes. Miles saw it and pointed a finger at him. "No. Get that image out of your head right now."

"It's really none of your business what Charlotte and I do in our bedroom. And I bet I could get my hands on some silk rope." He dodged and barely caught the heavy brass candlestick Charlie threw at him. "What?"

"Behave. Both of you." She leveled the same stern look at her father. "I've seen five-year-olds who are better behaved than the two of you."

"Yes, Mom." That came from Bass. It was Miles' turn to smirk. "Speaking of Mathesons, your nephew is doing quite well for himself. Kip likes him. I think this is the first time he's actually had someone to train who listens to what he says without needing it beaten into his skull. Oh," Bass interjected, pointing at Charlie while still talking to Miles, "and watch out if she and Danny are alone together. They're more dangerous as a team than we ever were." Charlie made a noise of protest. "I'm on to you two."

Miles grinned. "What did they do?"

"Managed to smuggle computer components and one of the pendants out. They've got them up in Danny's room." She felt her cheeks heat up and her husband arched a brow at her. "Mr. Flynn was looking for the pendant. I told him that you two were using it to power a computer here to help keep track of your projects."

Miles frowned. "Why do you have a computer? Neither of you would know what to do with it."

Charlie gave a shrug. "Aaron is helping us. I think he really misses computers."

Miles gave a single nod of comprehension. "He would."

Bass had moved back behind Charlie, one hand reaching out to rub the back of her neck. "Anyone else hungry? I'm in the mood for Joseph's."

~***~

The paranoia was returning. It coiled in his brain like a serpent, waiting to strike.

He'd been getting better. Has been improving with Miles back. Things made more sense with his brother there. Things were easier. Simpler. 

And Charlotte had been helping. Her courage, strength and cleverness made the days more bearable.

He knew what was causing the problem. It was the baby. Though he was pleased to know that Charlotte was pregnant, he was also terrified. Memories of pained cries and blood that wouldn't stop flowing kept playing across his mind. 

Those fears were feeding new ones. Blending themselves with the memory of the bombing on Miles' birthday, replacing his brother with his wife. New fears of Charlotte taken down by some assassin's bullet or arrow. Or someone slipping a knife between her ribs. 

Bass downed his whiskey in one swallow. Charlotte and Miles had gone with him to Joseph's. The chef was having fun trying to cater to the First Lady's currently ever changing palette. At the moment she was craving things that were tangy with an emphasis on pickles. He'd managed to dig up old German recipes. Bass had never had sauer bratten before, and the idea of pickled beef had him somewhat leery at first, but it turned out to be surprisingly good. It also took three days for the meat to marinate, so he suspected it wouldn't be something he got very often. Charlotte had ordered a second helping. Now that she wasn't spending most of the day fighting nausea she was always hungry.

He'd called Granger in to discuss his fears about Charlotte and the baby. They'd been shut up in his office for hours that day. He'd had to talk about Shelly. The doctor had been patient and attentive, but he'd asked questions. Not about just the labor, but the pregnancy itself. Had she experienced spotting during the last trimester? How long had they been in one place before labor? How had their food supplies been? How old was Shelly? Did he know if she'd had a history of drug use or prior abortion? Some of the answers he didn't know. They were the kinds of things that hadn't mattered that soon after the Blackout, when all you wanted and craved was another person to love and to love you.

According to Granger the most likely culprit for Shelly's death was placenta previa. A condition where the placenta blocked the opening of the cervix either partially or completely at the time of birth. Rare. Affected only about one half of one percent of all pregnancies so it was highly unlikely that the same thing would happen to Charlotte. Before the Blackout it would have been detected on the ultrasound and they would have scheduled Shelly for a Caesarian when the baby was ready. Without detection, however, their child had gone through the temporary organ before it could detach naturally from Shelly. Their baby had suffocated and Shelly had bled out.

This wasn't some ramshackle camp with poor supplies and not enough food. Charlotte wasn't a half starved refugee. She was stronger and healthier than Shelly had been. She had a warm, dry place to sleep. Plenty to eat. A physician who was literally at her beck and call twenty-four hours of the day. The odds were firmly in her favor.

He had to get over this. He had to stop driving himself crazy. This, this fine edged blade of madness, was what had driven Miles away before. He knew that in his more rational moments. Only this time, if he went too far again, was too bloody and murderous again, this time when he left Miles would likely take Charlotte with him.

That was another fear that nested in his brain. That he'd come back home after reviewing the troops or dealing with some matter or another and find a bloodbath. Find his men killed at Miles' hand and his wife gone. Miles had come to him, turned myself in to face whatever punishment or execution Bass had in mind, just to beg for his daughter's life. If he left again, he would not go without her. He'd take her, and he'd already proven that he could not be found if he didn't want to be.

And he'd take the child. This wasn't the days of disposable diapers and canned formula. They were back to the times where a child needed his mother to survive. Cow's milk was a barely passable substitute for mother's milk. Women were going back to breast feeding as long as two years or more as the norm. He remembered from a history class he'd taken through the Corps that some of the tribes in North America during the time of expansion had supported polygamy not just to ensure that your brother's widow and children were cared for by taking his wife as your own, but because sex with a nursing mother simply wasn't done as a new pregnancy might cause her milk to stop and endanger the child's well-being. You had the additional wives to spread out the work and so that you didn't have an empty bedroll at night.

Bass turned away from his desk, his fingers running through his hair. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had to stop this. Miles wasn't leaving, he was upstairs in his quarters, probably either sleeping or reading something with a bottle of whiskey at his elbow. Charlotte wasn't gone, she was asleep. Making a new life was exhausting and she slept a lot these days. He hadn't lost his family, they were still here.

Charlotte. Charlotte was his compass. She'd pulled her father out of that hole in Chicago and had gone a long way in fixing him. Miles was more...centered. Less ruthless. More balanced. He was still a bastard on the battlefield, but the old Miles would have slaughtered the majority of the Georgian army, not given them the chance to go home to their families. 

Before he would have worried that would come back to bite them, but then Miles had recommended using Charlotte to soften the edges of their victory. Those whispers about his "child bride" were a carefully executed tactic. He and Miles were monsters in the eyes of most. Charlotte was sweet, young and innocent. Well, to those who had no idea that the girl was as deadly as some of their best trained soldiers. 

She'd made Miles a better person. Made you want to be a better person. Bass felt it, too. You didn't want to disappoint her. Didn't want to see pain that you caused in those eyes. She'd saved her father. Bass wanted to believe she could save him, too.

He cared for her. He hadn't meant to. This wasn't what he expected when he'd come up with the idea of marrying her. Sure, he'd hoped they'd develop respect for one another. He'd been determined to do right by her. He had been approaching things logically. Tactically. But Miles' blue-eyed siren of a daughter had a way of worming her way into your life and carving out a place for herself. He doubted she did it on purpose, it was just who she was. Few were immune to it. Neville still disliked her, which was fair enough since Bass was developing a strong dislike for Tom's son and how often he'd caught the young officer staring at her. Stausser respected her only because she was the First Lady and not out of any affection, which was probably for the best. He didn't think he wanted to be around if Will Strausser ever actually fell for a girl. He didn't want to know what that man's idea of affection would look like. Jeremy was still her confidant, though not on the level of Danny, and was still who she went to when she needed to vent about him or Miles. Having Baker in Atlanta was driving her stir crazy, which was probably why she'd taken to throwing things at him or Miles when they irritated her.

Charlotte was the key. Flynn was getting anxious, wanting to move forward with pushing into the Plains Nation. Before he would have done it, confident that his tanks, helicopters and Humvees were enough. Charlotte was the one who reminded him that Georgia wasn't yet settled down. Add that to Miles' reminder of how thin that would spread their forces and he could see the wisdom in waiting.

Charlotte was the one who posed the question as to whether or not they really needed to conquer the rest of the continent. Being in charge was a pain in the ass. Now that the Republic was double the geographical size and triple the population, it would be even more so. She had some ideas, projects that she wanted to try and implement now that they had power, and not just the medicines. Things they'd need to pick Rachel's brain about once she got the vaccine productions up and running and was returned to Philly. Rachel was more of a mechanical engineer than a biological one, anyways. And what Charlotte wanted was a good idea. A stroke of brilliance, actually. There were shades of Miles' tactical mind there, shaped by a different way of seeing things. If even some of what she was thinking worked, he wouldn't need the entire continent. They would be the ones with power and everyone else would be dependent on them to improve their quality of life. The Monroe Republic would be able to shape the policies of the other republics without having to deal with the actual upkeep. 

His shoulders had finally relaxed. He'd beaten back the monster again. Charlotte was safe. All signs pointed towards a healthy and relatively easy pregnancy and delivery. His brother was home and by his side again. His world was stable. He had his family and they weren't going anywhere. He wasn't alone.

He put the stopper back into the neck of the crystal decanter. It was getting late and there was a beautiful woman with the beginnings of a baby bump starting to show asleep in his bed upstairs. A smile touched his lips at that thought. He liked covering the slight bulge with his hand, as though he could reach through the skin and let their child know he or she was wanted and loved. That usually led to other things and he certainly liked when that happened. Charlotte may have become his wife out of necessity, but she never turned him away and was one of the most responsive lovers he'd had. He'd been right that marriage to her was anything but boring.

He blew the lamp on his desk out and left his office. It was time to turn in.

~***~

One would think that if she wanted to go out and get some ice cream, she should be able to go out and get some fucking ice cream without it becoming a major damn outing!

One thing Philly had was ice. Clean ice, too. According to Aaron, the first refrigeration units had come about before electricity and used a combination of liquid ammonia and alcohol. They were potentially toxic if they leaked, but if well maintained they allowed for the freezing and preservation of food and for the production of clean ice. As a result, Philly had an honest to God ice cream shop. The flavors were usually limited, basically vanilla and whatever Frits or nuts were in season, but it was creamy and sweet and she wanted a bowl!

If she'd known she'd have to take not only her four body guards, but her husband, her father and Major Neville with them as well, she would have just sent someone out for it. What kind of world did she live in where she couldn't go down the street with her brother and Aaron on a Saturday afternoon to get a damn bowl of ice cream?

Oh, wait, that would be the world where she'd married her uncle-father's best friend/president/dictator. Right. That world.

Stupid, idiotic, annoying, over-protective family.

Charlie took a deep, calming breath. Aaron caught it. "You okay?"

"Pregnancy sucks. I get angry over the dumbest, stupidest things."

"Like what?"

Charlie jerked her thumb at the two men to her left. "Tweedle Obsessive and Tweedle Compulsive here." Miles barked an offended "Hey!" while Danny cut off a snort of laughter. Bass just chuckled and Aaron hid his laugh under a cough. 

"Oh, come on Miles. That was actually pretty clever."

"Ben obviously did not raise you to respect your elders."

"Oh, Dad tried. Charlie just never listened. You should have heard some of their fights."

" _Everyone_ heard those fights. From one end of the village to the other." Aaron shook his head. "Good thing Ben knew she loved him. She probably would have shot anyone else."

"Yeah, that she got from him." Bass nodded to Miles. "Runs in the family."

"Guess we know what to look forward to, then." They finally reached the shop and the guards opened the door for them. The honey had been harvested and the shop keeper had come up with a heavenly creation she dubbed 'honey cream' that Charlie ordered in a crisp waffle bowl with toasted almonds on top. She was much happier once she had her treat.

She took her time, standing outside the shop while leaning against the brick wall. The late summer sun was warm and there was a slight breeze moving through town. They guys wolfed theirs down without pause, somehow managing to carry on conversations at the same time. Did they even need to breathe? Aaron was explaining chocolate to Danny, apparently lamenting how the only state in the US that was ever able to grow it commercially had been Hawaii, which was firmly out of reach even with the pendants and amplifiers. Miles, Bass and Neville were discussing the latest information from Georgia. She missed Jeremy. She needed someone who'd listen when the two Chief Idiots in Charge were bugging her. She was in a holding pattern. She'd been discussing things with Aaron and a few members of the Academy's faculty he considered both qualified and knowledgable, but she couldn't proceed with her ideas until Rachel was back in Philly. She didn't trust any of Randall's scientists. She didn't know which were actually in his pocket and which were there solely because the Militia had rounded them up. 

Thankfully, Bass had listened when she'd asked him to secure the families gently. They were now housed in a couple of apartment buildings near Liberty Hall and the scientists were allowed to go home to them at the end of their shifts. They were also being paid for their work. It wasn't perfect, but it should help ease things when they finally had a way to figure out who was on which side.

"Hey! Sergeant!" She looked up to see Bass stripping off his gloves, looking at a couple of off duty Militia who were tossing some kind of ball between themselves on the wide expanse of park. He walked out onto the grass, followed by Miles and Neville. "Over here!"

The larger of the two soldiers reared back and threw the oblong shape to Bass who caught it with ease. "Okay, that's two and three. Tom, you go with them." He looked over at the area in front of the shop. "Aaron?"

"It what universe do you think I've _ever_ played football?"

Miles laughed and waved. "Come on, Danny." 

Her brother finished off his last bite and got up to jog over. "I don't know how to play."

"That's all right. Neither does Tom." 

Across the way the other three men, including Tom, laughed. "Shirts and skins?"

"You guys do skin. We let the pretty boy here take off his shirt and we'll have a riot." Even Charlie laughed at that one.

What followed was an impromptu game of whatever 'football' was. The three older men seemed to be quite well versed in it. The two younger soldiers were less so and Danny just did whatever Miles and Bass told him to. There were jeers, some cheers and quite a bit of cussing. The teams grew bit by bit as other soldiers who were off duty for the day either wandered by or got wind of what was going on. Charlie ducked back into the shop for a second bowl of ice cream. It was starting to look as though they'd be here for a while.

"You have any idea what's giving on?"

"Nope." Aaron let the 'p' pop as he said it. "I was the one the jocks beat up. Didn't give a damn about the sport."

Charlie considered this and shrugged. "At least they're doing something other than plotting world domination for a change."

Aaron gave a bark of laughter. "You married him."

"Yeah." She put another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and worried it until it dissolved before crunching the almonds. Damn but this was good stuff. "He's got his good points."

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "The getting pregnant was fun." She grinned at the gagging noise her friend made.

"I've known you since you were in pig tails. Can we please not talk about your sex life? It's too disturbing." One of the guards lost it, trying hard to hold back his laughter, which set two of the other three off. The fourth maintained his stoicism. Charlie joined in with the laughter.

She just registered that the fourth guard had moved when she heard Danny yell from the grass. "Charlie! Look out!"

Instinct told her the fourth guard had moved too close. She turned, throwing herself away from the wall just in time to dodge the knife blade. The only thing in her hands was her ice cream and she smashed the bowl into his face, sending partially frozen milk and hard, scratchy almond pieces into his eyes. She doubted it hurt, but she was just aiming to blind him. 

Later her mind would identify the thundering sound coming from what was now behind her as about twenty-four men who were either related to her or who answered to the ones to whom she was running to help. They needn't have bothered. Everything her father and husband had put her through with one tutor after another came to the front in a perfectly balanced muscle memory. She shoved her would-be assassin against the wall, forcing his knife hand behind him, the arm straight, and struck the elbow. With the leverage from the position in which she held the arm she was rewarded with a crunching noise and a scream. The hand with the knife loosened and she snatched it from him. Another strike and the large blade of the knife was imbedded through his neck.

Bass reached her first. His hands gripped her shoulders as he pulled her clear of the now dead man sliding down the wall. He turned her to face him, his eyes and hands moving over her to confirm the only blood on her was from the attacker. There was a lot of it. She must have struck an artery.

She heard orders shouted as her husband pulled her further away. The three guards left were ordered to stay with Miles. Tom barked out the names of some of the men involved in the game and soon there were twelve man surrounding them like an impenetrable, moving wall as they returned to Liberty Hall.

The shock of the moment began to clear. She was processing what all of this meant. It couldn't still be about Miles and his desertion. They hadn't had any trouble since the wedding and he'd just led them to victory over Georgia. Pretty sure it couldn't be about her. She knew she was pretty popular among the Militia these days. This had to have something to do with Bass of the Republic. Someone trying to hurt him, maybe? Someone trying to cause disruption inside the Republic? 

She walked into the house, Bass never leaving her side. The building felt somehow oppressive and it didn't take her long to figure out why as he barked for someone to get Granger. There was know way of knowing how long she'd be in lockdown before her hyper-paranoid husband unclenched. It might be weeks before she saw the outside of these walls again.

Well, fuck.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I thought I was being clever with the assassination attempt. Le sigh.

Three weeks.

Well, two and one half weeks, if she were to be accurate.

"It doesn't make any sense!"

Bass slammed his fisted hands down onto the map table in frustration. "Damn it, Charlotte! We found the orders hidden in his quarters. We found his damn Ranger badge!"

"Why would Texas come after me?! I've done nothing to them. Unlike other people in this room, I've never fought them or tried to have any of their higher ranking officials assassinated!"

"War doesn't make sense! It never does. And get away from the damn window!"

She clenched her hands into fists and took a slow, steadying breath as she paced away from the side of the room where the windows were to the other side where she wouldn't make a visible target.

"With all due respect, Sir, the First Lady does have a point."

Miles looked up from the intel that was starting to arrive from their operatives in Texas, his brow arching. "Really, Tom? You're going to agree with her?"

"In this case, what we know of Texas and how they operate would lean more towards her being right. Texas making a move makes sense. The target doesn't"

"The evidence says otherwise."

"Evidence can be planted."

Bass was about to let loose, but Miles raised a hand to forestall him. "All right. Let's hear it."

"As far as those on the outside looking in are concerned, Mrs. Monroe is, at best, a force of positive change within the head office of the Republic. Texas would have no problem with her ideas and would likely even encourage them. It's hard to rail against life saving medicines and humanitarian efforts. At worst she is seen as the poor victim caught up in the machinations of the two of you. The Rangers are tough, bad ass and fierce, but they are, at heart, a bunch of Boy Scouts. They would be more likely to try and abduct her in a misguided attempt to save her from the pair of you. It certainly wouldn't be in their nature to try and kill a pretty young woman in the family way. Their people wouldn't stand for such an action." Tom paused to let that sink in. "And they wouldn't be dumb enough not to destroy their orders. This smells more like someone trying to goad us into war with Texas."

Miles looked to Bass. "He has a point."

Charlie threw her hands up. "Sure, he says it and it all makes sense. I say it and you think I'm being naive."

They ignored her! Sometimes she'd wondered if the reason she didn't have a side arm of her own was because they really were worried that she'd shoot one of them.

Bass looked at Miles. "California? It's the kind of thing that would smack of a pre-Blackout drama. They like that shit."

"Possibly, but Governor Affleck would be hesitant to target a pregnant woman, too." Miles rubbed his chin. "Mexico, maybe. This would be right up a drug cartel's alley. Get us to fight Texas and they have to turn their attention away from the Southern border."

"Leaving an opening to allow them to push north." Bass nodded. "They're close enough and have the resources for something like this."

Oh, for the love of... "Or...I dunno, Randall Flynn?" All three men turned to face her. "Well, it's not like he's happy you've put the brakes on expanding westward. His been bitching about it since Miles got home."

Neville gave a slow nod. Since when had he gotten into her corner? He hated her. "Another valid point. The man can't be trusted. We all know that. And he's just a bit too eager for another war. Too eager to throw away the men's lives."

Again, Tom says it and they listen. Oh she was so going to give her dear husband a thorough talking to tonight. She should have gone with that poison idea she'd had when she'd been hugging the commode half the day. 

"We'd need proof."

"Why?" Miles closed the intelligence file. "We hate the guy. We've got his guys and we've got Rachel. With them we can make our own pendants and amplifiers. What do we really need him for?"

"He's got the names of the scientists still in the other republics."

"So? We ask the ones that we've got here. They have their own heroes and celebrities. Look how the computer geeks react to Aaron. You'd think he was Peyton Manning."

"You and your man crush on Manning." Bass shook his head. "I'd like something more concrete. I agree it bears looking into, but losing him would make things harder."

"But some of us would be a damn sight happier." She grumbled it under her breath. She'd been making progress with Bass. He had actually listened to her, took her thoughts and idea under consideration. One little assassination attempt, which she got herself out of she might add, and she was stuck with President Monroe in all his dictatorial glory.

She hoped it was Flynn who'd tried to have her killed. She'd welcomed the chance to return the favor.

~***~

Miles knew Charlie was mad at him. She'd was mad at them both. Perhaps they'd gone a little overboard with the security, but it was as much for Bass' sake as it was for her. It had taken everything he could think of short of locking his best friend up to keep him from starting an all out war with Texas the day the search of the her would-be killer's quarters. He'd wanted blood just as much, but you didn't start up with Texas without being prepared. He was still getting things in order after Kelly's surrender, both with supporting Jeremy as he simmered the area down and with men recovering from injuries and rebuilding their strength. If it turned out not to be Texas at all, he didn't want to be throwing his punches in the wrong direction.

Then again, he wasn't too torn up about Charlie being mad at Bass. He knew his friend had spent the past week sleeping in his office. Apparently his daughter wasn't being very welcoming after they'd listen to Neville when he'd basically just been repeating what she had been saying. The President was in the dog house, and Miles didn't mind that at all.

"Uncle Miles?"

He turned to see Danny headed towards him. "Yeah?"

Danny cast a brief glance in the direction of the open door leading to where Flynn's people were, busy at the computers or at work tables. "Can you come help me with something? I need to pick your brain a bit."

He wanted to go where they couldn't be heard. Danny was a bright kid, way smarter than he was at that age. Not for the first time Miles cursed the Blackout. Danny should be in college right now, cramming for tests when he wasn't goofing around with friends or kissing his first serious girl. He wasn't supposed to be having to deal with this cloak and dagger bullshit, anymore than his daughter should have had to tie herself down for the sake of politics. 

Not for the first time did he want to punch Ben or throttle Rachel. This world was one of their making,

"Sure Kid. Lead the way."

He followed Danny upstairs to his room. Aaron was there, his eyes glued to a computer screen, the text reflecting off his glasses. Miles was about to ask him what made him wear that expression like he was about to shit his pants when the door opened again and Charlie and Bass came in. Charlie shut the door behind them.

"Okay, Aaron, we're all here."

Miles exchanged a look with a Bass. Bass just shrugged. "What's going on, Charlie?"

"Aaron recognized something on the screens when he came over to see us last month. That's why Danny and me were stealing the computer parts. Took us a while to get everything he needed to build what he wanted. Then...he said he had to be careful?" She was clearly talking about things she'd didn't fully understand. Something else that was the Blackout's fault. Every person her age used to be familiar with computers. Probably even owned one of their own. "Something about knowing a few of Flynn's guys' reputations and needing to be sneaky."

Bass looked over at Aaron. "What's got you spooked, Beardy McGee?"

"Nukes." Aaron was pale, sweating just a bit. He swallowed and looked away from the screen to Charlie. "This is way worse than I thought."

Miles didn't like this. "You gonna share with the rest of the class?"

Aaron looked at him and Bass, then took a deep breath. "Okay, what I saw when I was walking by was their operating access. I had to get in and look at it from the backside to be sure, but I was. This," he said, a hand indicating text on the screen, "is mine. It's my thesis project from MIT. It's my code. I wrote it."

Miles stared at him. Every once in a while Aaron would say something that reminded him that he, like Ben, had been at the top of the food chain before the Blackout. Like the prissy, pure bred dog he'd had. Or that his house had three dumb waiters. Or, "They're running everything using your old college homework?"

Aaron rolled his eyes. "I know that what I know isn't much use these days, but what I do know I know very well. You dick."

He'd also stop being afraid of him. He kept things respectful when where they could be heard, but he suspected that was there were two kinds of wealthy people; those who thought they were above everyone else and behaved like assholes, and those who were tactful because they'd either been raised right or because it was good for business. He suspected that Aaron was the second type. He never lorded his intellect over people or tried to cling to his former glory. He was a good man, like his brother had been. It was no wonder they'd been friends.

Bass was looking at the screen. "Okay, so I take it you've hacked in. Find anything good?"

"Nothing in here is what I'd call good. It's the opposite of good. I mean, this is a conspiracy nut's wet dream."

"Like what?"

Aaron turned around and started typing. "Well, they're talking to someplace else, someplace that still has power. Not surprising, being that they're the ones giving it to you. But wherever this place is, it's military. Like, super covert military." He finished his typing and the screen pulled up an image of what looked like Paris, only the city had clearly seen better days. "The Blackout is contained to the planet. The satellites are still up there. Part of what they're doing down there is nudging those that have drifted off course back into alignment. I don't dare try to move any cameras, they'd see that, but this one is currently pointing at Paris. There was one pointed a Beijing yesterday. Or what's left of Beijing. The larger cities really didn't do well."

Bass leaned over Aaron's shoulder. They'd been to Paris with the Marines, a layover with three days to kill. Even with his piss poor French Bass had managed to get a threesome with a pair of sisters. And that was the man screwing his daughter. "What else?"

"Well," Aaron typed some more and another shot came up, this one of a flatter, more rural area,"I'm pretty sue Texas isn't mobilizing for an attack, though they're watching them closely. Most of the Texas forces are still concentrated in the borders with Mexico and The Wastelands."

"That would go along with Charlotte's and Neville's suspicions that someone is trying to frame Carver." So he was going to acknowledge it was her idea. That sofa in his office must not sleep well. 

"How long do you think you can poke around before someone notices you?"

"It took me this long to get in because I wanted to make sure no one noticed me. As long as I don't impact anything obvious I should be okay."

Miles nodded. They should have brought Aaron I earlier than this. Sure he'd known the man made his fortune with computers, but pre-Blackout media had always pictured hackers as too-thin nerds living on a diet of Mountain Dew and Doritos while living in their mothers' basements. Not corpulent millionaires with mansions and private planes. "What else did you get?"

Aaron drew a breath. "Okay, I knew I could get in because I wrote in a backdoor when I wrote the code. It's...something people like me do. You make sure you have a way to get in just in case your client screws you or someone else hacks in and takes over."

"Makes sense."

"Right. Well, when I got to the point that I felt comfortable going in, the door was already open."

"So someone else found your super-sneaky way in and already used it?"

Aaron nodded. "Yes, exactly. Most likely another coder. Someone like me would know what to look for."

"Maybe the guys downstairs are using it."

"I don't think so. In fact, I'd bet whoever did it didn't survive the Blackout."

"Why would you think that?"

Aaron turned back to the keyboard and called up some more text. "Because of this." He pointed to the lines. "These are his footprints. The dates and times he accessed the door and did this. The last date...it's the night of the blackout. He logged in about two hours before it happened."

A chill went down Miles' spine. He met Bass' eyes. "Can you tell what he did?"

Aaron took a breath. "Okay, I'm not sure what Rachel and Ben were doing, but if this Flynn guy was their boss and they're talking to this place, wherever it is, then it stands to reason that this place had something to do with the Blackout."

Miles nodded. It did seem the most likely. "Go on."

"Well, from what I can tell, a command string to start...whatever that was...came in. Whoever was using my backdoor caught the command and altered it before letting it execute. How I wrote this code, that took root level access and I set that up so that only a physical terminal with that level access could be used to do something like this. The guy had to be there, wherever this place is, to pull this off. It was probably even the same guy."

Danny took in a shaky breath. Miles shot a quick, assessing glance to make sure it was just nerves and not an attack. He looked pale, but he didn't seem to be gasping for air. "You mean...someone set off the Blackout on purpose?"

"That's what it looks like. Yeah. And the reason I say the guy probably didn't survive the Blackout is because that was the last time he used the backdoor, and he left it wide open."

Bass stood up, still behind Aaron. "Whomever was giving him his orders probably had him killed after he did the job. Must not have trusted him. Hell, guy might not have even known what it was he was doing."

"Oh, he knew. At least he knew it was something bad."

"How so?"

"That's where the nukes come in. Whatever this place is, it has missile command access. Before the night of the Blackout, this guy was changing the aim on some of the ICBMs from intercontinental to intracontinental."

Miles' heart stopped a couple of beats. He was certain it did. "They changed them to aim back at us?"

Bass swallowed. "Atlanta?"

"And Philadelphia. Also New York, Chicago, Austin, Houston, Los Angeles, Boston, Miami and pretty much every other major city. The places that emptied out after the lights died and where people eventually started wandering back to when some semblance of civilization started up again."

Bass flexed his neck one way, then the other. Charlie and Danny looked sick. He watched his nephew swallow. "So...mom and Dad...they didn't do it. They did cause the Blackout."

"No, it doesn't appear that they did." Bass reached behind him, searching for Charlie's hand. Moles watched as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I think it's time Tom and his people had a talk with Mr. Flynn."

~***~

"Mr. Sanborn." John looked up. That creepy officer, Major Neville, came into the small room where he was able to work in peace. He hated being around other people. They made him nervous.

"I'm busy."

"I can see that. However, I find myself in need of your counsel." The man looked over the amplifier he'd been building while three more men came in. One of them was taller and had an evil, sinister air about him. He had predator eyes. "We need to have a talk with your boss. A rather lengthy discussion that he's probably not going to enjoy. I was wondering if there is anything you might be able to tell us about him that might make things...a little easier."

He thought this might happen. They hadn't expected Monroe to have Rachel, or for him to have already had two amplifiers. But this, this was the kids. Flynn had underestimated them. Rachel and Ben were bright. Super bright. They wouldn't have stupid, dim witted children.

He'd especially underestimated the girl. He'd been mistaken in thinking that a twenty-something without an Ivy League education couldn't possibly be a threat.

He'd forgotten that before the blackout most of the wealthiest Americans had dropped out of college to start working on their ideas. The same ideas that had made them the wealthiest people. Gates. Jobs. Zuckerberg. Most of the great ones. A doctorate didn't necessarily mean superior intelligence. There were some really stupid college graduates in the world.

There were exceptions, of course. Pittman, for example. That man was a genius.

"Molar. Right side, not the back one but the just before it." He opened his mouth, tilting his head up to the light from the window, pointing it out. The tall, scary one came forward, gripped his chin and peered inside.

"Looks like a crown. Good work, but porcelain isn't enamel."

He let go of his chin and John stepped back. "Cyanide. Flynn made me get it. I didn't want it. He has one, too, but he'll use his if he has to. Some of the others have them as well. Some forced, like me. Some willing. I don't now for sure who is which." He swallowed and looked at the taller man. "I'd like mine out if I can."

The man smirked. He had already been in the process of unrolling a cloth bundle. "I think I can help you out with that. It's going to uncomfortable."

John swallowed. "I'd rather hurt a little now than keep worrying about it. I'm always nervous I'll trip and hit my jaw in something. Break it on accident."

"I could see where that could be nerve wracking. Especially if it wasn't your idea." He'd rolled out the bundle and John saw it was filled with an array of nasty looking implements. The man took out something that looked like a combination of a pairs of pliers and an escargot clamp. He'd always hated escargot. "Open up and try to hold still."

John opened his mouth and tilted his head back so the man could get a better grip. He heard Major Neville off to the side.

"That is very helpful information, Mr. Sanborn. The Republic thanks you for your cooperation."

Later he stood in the hall as Neville and his men walked into the room where Flynn and the others were working. The tall man, he'd heard Neville call him Sergeant Strausser, gripped Flynn by the jaw, forcing his mouth open while two soldiers held him still. Other soldiers forced dowels between the teeth of the other men and women until their own suicide teeth could be removed. John felt sorry for the ones that had been forced into this as he was, but a part of him was glad to see Flynn taken away. He'd lived in fear of the man for too long.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I know your are likely frightened and scared." Neville addressed them, that smile that was both more reassuring and more terrifying than Flynn's firmly in place. "I am told that some of you were forced and bullied into letting Flynn and his compatriots put those nasty, poisoned crowns in you mouths. Not to worry, Sergeant Strausser will be helping you with those. He and his men will also be here to listen to whatever you may have to say about what Randall Flynn and his people have been making you do. President Monroe would like to offer a safe haven for you and your families. In exchange for your loyalty and assistance, of course."

The man came to a stop where all could see him. "Now, who would like to go first?"


	11. Chapter 11

Kelly had been surprised when she saw the suite she'd been given as her accommodations. She had anticipated being thrown into a cell and left there to rot, or perhaps killed in an 'escape attempt'. Instead she had a nice set of rooms with a comfortable bed and anything she could ask for. It was a bit unsettling.

The lock at the door clicked, the heavy wood swinging open to reveal Monroe. She refused to stand up as he entered and instead just lifted her chin slightly. “Sebastian.”

“Madame Foster, I trust you are settling in well. Any complaints with the staff?”

“No, you're people have been quite accommodating I'll admit I hadn't expected someplace so comfortable.”

He looked around the room. “I used to keep my mother-in-law here, before she became my mother-in-law. Now she has a bigger suite on the other side of the house, closer to the kitchens so she can come and go to work more easily.”

That made her blink. “You must like your mother-in-law more than I did my late husband's mother. I would have thrown that old bat into the deepest hole I could find.”

“I was tempted. She's a bit of a shrew, but she's a brilliant shrew.”

“Is there something I can do for you, Sebastian?” She looked in askance as soldiers started coming in to with buckets of hot water to fill the bath. 

“I just wanted to advise you of an upcoming meeting. One you will want to attend. We've come across some intelligence that I believe you will be very interested in hearing. And you'll want to look your best; fully armored and loaded for bear.”

That got her attention. “What are you up to?”

“Me? I'm not up to anything, Kelly. However, I have found that there is someone out there that is very much up to something, and they've been playing both of us like well tuned violins.”

~***~

Kelly's suit was cleaned and pressed. Her shoes highly polished and just enough heel to be feminine but still be comfortable. Her hair was carefully done up and pinned. She looked as though she could still be President of the Georgia Federation. 

A soldier came to get her and escorted her to the foyer where Monroe stood with a tall, beautiful blonde whose body language clearly indicated that she'd kill him given half the chance. Kelly liked her all ready.

“Kelly, allow me to introduce my mother-in-law, Rachel Matheson.”

So this was the woman who wanted access to the CDC building. “Mrs. Matheson, or do you prefer 'Doctor'?”

“Rachel is fine.” Her smile was tight and stressed. “I was hoping that Bass here would explain why he pulled me away from my work.”

“I told you, it's a surprise. Well, I doubt you'll be that surprised, but I suspect you'll feel vindicated. Kelly here, well, it'll be a complete surprise to her. Shall we?”

They took a Humvee to the detention center, a luxury that was more for security. Rachel's shoulders tightened, the woman tensing and her eyes going laser sharp on Monroe. “Relax, Rachel. I'm not moving you two here. We're here to visit your old boss.”

That gave her a pause. “Flynn?”

Monroe smiled. “Sergeant Strausser has been entertaining him for the past week. He was surprisingly resilient.”

“On the outs with him, then?”

“Professor Pittman did some investigative work and uncovered some rather troubling evidence we felt required a more thorough look.”

“What did he find?”

“Patience, Rachel. I don't want to ruin the surprise for either of you.” 

The walk from the front door down to the lowest level where the interrogations were done was now a matter of using an elevator. Without the pre-Blackout muzak it was a bit tense. No one spoke. The tension made it feel as though it would have been quicker to take the stairs. Finally the doors opened and they were able to exit into the roomier hallway. The air wasn't quite as oppressive, though Kelly still felt more than a bit anxious at being in this building. Part of her was still half convinced that Monroe had something unpleasant in store for her.

They were taken to a large concrete room. One one wall was a table with several silver implements set out as though by a surgeon. A tall, intimidating man stood near them, his hands in his jacket pockets as he kept an eye on a thin man bound to a metal chair. The man was battered and bloody, his skin stretched too tight over his frame. He looked haggard and beaten down.

“Mr. Flynn, I do apologize for the delay. However, a gentleman should always allow a lady all the time she needs to make herself presentable.”

The man, 'Flynn', lifted his head. There was hate in his eyes, but it was a cold, serpentine type of hate. Kelly felt an urge to step back but stood her ground. From the edge of her vision she saw Rachel's chin lift slightly, defiantly. 

“Rachel, you are looking well. I thought you'd still be in Atlanta, playing with your germs.”

“My daughter came up with another project she wanted me to look into.”

“Really.” Flynn's lip curled in a sneer at one side. “And what does the little darling have you doing now? Rescuing puppies?”

“Improving food production and preservation.”

“Ah. More bent towards machinery. I wondered how long it would be before you grew bored with medicine. You always were more of the 'get your hands dirty' type of genius.”

Monroe took a step towards the man. “Rachel, Mr. Flynn was telling us earlier about the evening of the Blackout. Now, I could just let you read the transcript and report, but I think it would be better if you heard it directly from him.” The man glared at Monroe. Kelly had no doubt that the man would kill him if he could. 

Monroe just smiled. “Come now, Randall. You've already told it once, but this is something you really should tell her yourself. She deserves to know.”

Flynn's expression was pure hatred. Kelly kept her features schooled into passive blankness. She wasn't sure what was going on here, but her instincts told her it was important. After a long moment, the man snarled and spat out “You're tech worked perfectly, Rachel. We just...tweaked the program a bit.”

The other woman drew in a sharp breath. “Tweaked the program?” Her voice was a harsh whisper. “You...you did this on purpose?”

Flynn's smile was smug. “As they say 'You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs'. The old world had to go if we were to rebuild it into something strong and healthy again.”

Ice settled in the pit of Kelly's stomach. She got it. They were talking about the Blackout. Her eyes flicked over to Rachel. The taller woman's face had blanched to a pasty white. 

“'A few eggs'? There were seven billion people in the world. How many are dead because of what you did?”

“Merely separating the chaff from the wheat.”

The ice turned into nausea. Kelly usually prided herself on her calm demeanor. At the moment, however, she had a very strong urge to grab the sidearm from Monroe's holster and put a bullet in this Randal Flynn. To speak so casually of billions of lives lost. It was disgusting.

She looked to Rachel Matheson. She saw the woman's stricken features morph into cool, clinical detachment. It was a terrifying thing to behold. 

Apparently Monroe noticed it as well. “Rachel, Mr. Flynn may still have valuable information. Now, you would know better than I what he had access to, but do try to keep in mind that we should keep him alive if at all possible.” He looked from Rachel to Flynn and back. “We'll leave you two to catch up. Kelly? If you would be so kind as to join me back to Independence Hall. We have things to discuss.”

She held it together until they were out of sight of Randal Flynn. Only then did she let herself start to shake. “They...just killed them. Just...uprooted everyone's lives. The whole damn planet.” She shook her head. “Who _does_ something like that?”

“Wait until we're seated. It's a lot to digest on your feet.” He held her elbow lightly, like any man escorting a woman across a clearing to the vehicle waiting for them. They remained quiet until they arrived at the hall and it was just the two of them in Monroe's office.

“Drink?”

She nodded sharply. “A double.” She sat down in one of the chairs before his desk when Monroe motioned for her to do so. He fixed them both a drink and handed her one of the glasses. “Thank you.”

“I know how you feel, Kelly. And it gets worse.”

“Worse than knowing that people in our own government orchestrated a catastrophe that likely killed as much as eighty percent of the world's population?”

“Our guy suspects it's closer to eighty-five or ninety percent. And that's not all they did.” He filled her in on what they'd learned. The troops being built up in Cuba. The missiles being redirected to aim back at their own cities. How Flynn had tried to get him to use a nuke on Atlanta. Kelly downed her whiskey and accepted another. No point in trying to maintain calm aloofness. No one could blame her for being rattled. 

“Anything else?”

“We've been working on some of the other men with him. They've kept the details parsed out carefully to prevent any one person from having too much information, but from what we can gather there are also plans to utilize germ warfare and chemical weapons as well.” He didn't stand behind his desk and loom over her. Instead he took the chair next to hers. “Kelly, I hate to admit this, but he played me. They probably had a handler in your administration as well. Those missiles, they were redirected for a reason. These guys, these so-called 'Patriots', they waited to see who would be the biggest and baddest kids on the playground and sent their guys in to point us towards one another. You and me, we were always nipping at one another. Flynn's ultimate plan was to get one or both of us in a position that he could send nukes to our capitals and let us take the fall for it. Then they come up and save the day.”

She closed her eyes, feeling ill. “And people would welcome them with open arms.” She shook her head, her hands trembling. “Damn it.”

“Yeah.” He topped off their glasses.

“What now?”

He let out a sigh. “I needed Georgia, Kelly. I've got coal and iron, but the growing season isn't as long up here and our winters are harsh. Not to mention the northern states were more widely developed, cutting back on usable land. That southern territory will allow me to lower taxes on the rest of the Republic and improve lives.”

She grimaced. “Obviously.” She studied the ice in her glass. “I suppose, looking back, we could have both been a little more reasonable. Perhaps actually attempted a trade alliance instead of resorting to weapons.”

“Hindsight being what it is. Of course, Texas and California would have flipped.” Monroe shook his head. “If it hadn't been the two of us it would have been me and Texas. Or you and Texas.”

“Or Texas and California. Why not? They've already thrown mankind back into the dark ages. What would be a few more lives lost?”

“Now you're getting it.”

Kelly turned in her seat to look at Monroe. “So again, what now?”

He met her gaze, his expression measuring. “I'd like to send you back to Atlanta, Kelly.” She arched a brow at him in askance. “As a governor under the Monroe Republic. We would still maintain ownership of the land, but you're a good leader. You're smart, you've got trade agreements with Europe and the people trust you.”

“What's to stop me from using my position to take control again?”

He gave her a smile. “I didn't say I'd send you back alone. You'd have your keepers. And I haven't been putting the jackboot to Georgia's collective necks. I don't think you've met my wife, yet. She's quite popular with most folks.”

“I've only heard of Mrs. Monroe. To be honest, I'm surprised that Miles hasn't found a way to make her a widow, yet. I didn't get the impression he was entirely thrilled with the union.”

The smile turned boyish. “Miles talks a good game, but he knows that I treat Charlotte well. I'm damn lucky to have her. We both are. She makes us look good. At any rate, in exchange for your skills in keeping Georgia up and running, we'll provide power to keep the second medical lab in Atlanta up and running as well as have Rachel implement the farming and preservation measures she's developing. With the arable land in the region and improved equipment abilities, we should be able to increase production enough that we'll be able to supply the entire continent if need be as well as increase what trade goods available to offer to foreign allies.” He shrugged. “It's a winning proposition for both of us.”

She didn't quite trust him. “Why are you doing this, Monroe? You conquered Georgia. Why put the deposed figurehead back in the lime light.”

“I told you; you're damn good at the job.” He shrugged. “And, now that you know the truth behind what happened, us being able to work together will help in getting Texas and California to understand what's going on.”

“The 'Patriots'.”

“Yeah, the 'Patriots'.” Monroe finished the last of his whiskey. “From the intel we've gotten they took off with a good amount of weapons and supplies, not to mention was was still there in Gitmo where they're holed up. We may know about them now, but once they realize that Flynn isn't going to deliver, they'll just direct their attentions to one of the other republics. They already don't trust me, but you've always been viewed as the more sane one. Your voice will help them come to terms regarding who was behind the Blackout.”

Kelly frowned, considering. She didn't truly trust Monroe, she'd be a fool if she did, but he had a point. “What about your mother-in-law? She's not going to be popular once it gets out she created the technology that they used.”

“They can't possibly hate her more than she hates herself. That's why I wanted her to hear it from Randal. I hate the woman, mostly for reasons that aren't mine to disclose, but my wife cares for her. And she is family. She's been blaming herself for all those people dying, tried to kill herself over it at least once that I know of. She needed to know that she didn't make a mistake. She was used, just like other great minds before her.”

“There is that.” She tapped her fingers on the glass, her lips pursed. “I don't like you, Sebastian. You and Miles have cut a bloody swath across the Eastern half of the continent, but if one steps back to look at things objectively, we're all products of what was done by others. You were trying to establish order in the chaos, just as the rest of the republics. You two took things too far, got too far off course, but I like to believe you didn't start out as a power-mad, dictatorial jackass.”

“Thank you.” Monroe's voice was so dry that had it been toast it wouldn't have soaked up butter. 

“I'm not going to suck up to you, Sebastian. I'll help you maintain order in Georgia, if only because I'd rather see to it first hand that my people are being treated fairly. But I'm not going to become one of your sycophants If you want someone to kiss your ass, you're talking to the wrong girl.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if I didn't get enough grief at home.” He shook his head, his expression rueful. “If you started worshiping at my feet, you'd be worthless to me. Miles and I work because he isn't afraid to tell me when I'm being a dick. My marriage works because my wife isn't afraid to brain me over the head if I need it. You and I will only work if you aren't afraid to tell me the truth. I don't need a lapdog. I need someone who can make the hard and smart decisions and can do her job without needing her hand held. I know you can do that.”

“You are a strange man, Sebastian Monroe. Who's going to be my babysitter?”

“I'll be relocating Major Neville and his family to Atlanta to work with you. Rachel will need to return their so she's close to the farmland she'll be working with, so I'm hoping my brother-in-law will be willing to go as well. You'll like him. Smart kid, only he'll need body guards to beat off the girls. Too damn pretty for his own good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, comments are my drug of choice.


End file.
